


Organic Chemistry

by downjune



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Consent Issues, Fucking for Chemistry, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Power Dynamics, Prescription Drugs and Alcohol, Soul Bond, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-08 01:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15232206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downjune/pseuds/downjune
Summary: True chemistry. That was the hope—but it was always the hope for Sid. Privately, Bryan thought that if it hadn’t happened already, it wasn’t going to, but you’d pry that out of his cold, dead throat before he’d admit those doubts to anyone. Least of all Sid.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snickfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/gifts).



> The story is set in January and February of 2017, during the short but glorious time of the Sheary-Crosby-Rust Sid and the Kids line.

Organic Chemistry

 

Bryan lived with the suspicion that his life was one of those record-scratch memes, and everyone, secretly or not, thought it was only some random combination of events that had brought an undersized, stuttering kid from Pontiac to a Stanley Cup and chemistry with one of the greatest players in the game today. Bryan, in his darker moments, isolated and examined those lucky events that had kick-started his miraculous—but ultimately fraudulent—career, and he by now had a firm list. Though it really came down to just the one thing.

But his dark moments were always followed by longer, lighter ones and the affirmation that everyone in the NHL was lucky in some capacity. Lucky to have the right parents, the right body-type, the right coach. 

And along with his luck, Bryan had one hell of a work ethic. Like, he’d just played seventeen minutes, then gotten on the bike, and his thighs were _burning_ , but fuck if he was gonna tell Sid that. 

He tried to subtly lean just a little more of his weight into Sid’s chest. It was a lot of work straddling Sid’s monster thighs, his back to Sid’s front. Sid had his arms tight around Bryan and, seeming to pick up on his fatigue, pulled Bryan’s hips farther into his lap. He was the best for a reason. For lots of reasons. Certainly for this one.

“You can lean on me more,” he said, voice steady as ever even as he fucked up into Bryan like the rock star he was. 

Bryan clutched at the arm hooked tightly across his chest. “Cool.” He tipped his head back against Sid’s shoulder and shivered when Sid nuzzled his throat. Those thighs flexed under him, and a sharp moan burst from Bryan’s mouth. His spine bowed with how good it felt. And then Sid smiled against his neck, and Bryan knew he was truly fucked. They’d been at this for a little over a month now, and Bryan knew Sid’s tells in bed just as well as Sid knew his. Right now, Sid knew he had Bryan right where he wanted him, and he liked that feeling. 

The hand low on Bryan’s stomach slid down to cup between his legs, pressing his balls tight to his body and rubbing just the right side of too hard. Bryan tried to rock up into Sid’s grip, but he had almost no leverage and could only groan his frustration. 

“I got you,” Sid murmured. “You’re almost there.” Both assurance and observation. He had gotten very good at catching every muscle twitch and snagged breath. Every wince at a step across the line. There was no one better. Bryan let Sid push him right out to that edge and hold him there, playing him like a fucking fiddle. Just the right rhythm, just the right pressure. Tuning in so completely to Bryan’s body that a connection might finally set. 

True chemistry. That was the hope—but it was always the hope for Sid. Privately, Bryan thought that if it hadn’t happened already, it wasn’t going to, but you’d pry that out of his cold, dead throat before he’d admit those doubts to anyone. Least of all Sid, who could work him over like no one else. And bouncing around from one line to another—from one lap to another—as much as Bryan did, he had plenty of experience.

Sid finally had ahold of him, his grip warm and slick, his mouth warm and wet against Bryan’s throat, and their bodies shiny with sweat from a good game and really good sex. Bryan closed his eyes and let go. Sid flexed up into him, more grinding than anything, and between the bright sparks of pressure deep in him and the hot grip of Sid’s hand, Bryan was toast.

It felt good to yell. Sid’s breath rushed in his ear as he jerked Bryan through his orgasm, and right when it was about to become too much, be bent Bryan forward and groaned through his own. His muscles shook hard enough that Bryan had to brace against the bed to hold them up. He was glad to do it. Then Sid tugged him sideways and they collapsed onto the bed.

Bryan waited. Sid’s breath slowed. Then—

“Anything?”

Bryan blew out a breath and shook his head. A fantastic orgasm and the intimacy of Sid at his back, their feet tangled together, but… “No.”

“All right, maybe next time.” Sid swatted his hip hard enough for a little sting and carefully pulled out. Bryan hid his wince in the pillow. He rolled over on his back when Sid climbed out of bed and crossed to the bathroom to throw out the condom. Fuck, he was gorgeous—bowlegs and thick thighs, torso like a stack of bricks, cock short and fat in a wild cloud of dark pubes. His endless patience and dogged optimism, and his willingness to fall into bed with his linemates in hope that something would finally catch. 

Not to mention that smile.

And somehow, they didn’t have it. Chemistry. Bryan was supposed to be a sure thing. 

With nothing setting up between them, he recognized the end of the evening and shoved himself upright. Just as he swung his legs off the side of the bed, Sid emerged from the bathroom with a washcloth. “Hey, you’re staying over, right?” He reached for Bryan with the washcloth and rubbed down his belly and sides, meticulously seeking out every stray drop of evidence.

“If that’s cool,” Bryan answered. 

“For sure,” he said easily. Sid always wanted his team close. If he could fit the whole roster in guest rooms and on couches and air mattresses, he probably would. “You know where everything is.”

“I do, I do.”

Sid smiled and gave him another, gentler swat on the hip. He looked Bryan in the eyes, and Bryan’s belly dipped. He reached for Sid instinctively, hoping this time, this time, this time, but Sid didn’t reach back. Or, he did, but only with a hand to ruffle Bryan’s hair.

Bryan stepped around him and gave his ass a quick, back-handed slap on his way past, because that was the universal hello and goodbye of their people. The jiggle was outrageous, but he tried not to stare. 

_Don’t get down, champ_ , he thought. _You don’t need chem with every linemate you fuck_. Even if, on those dark days, he was pretty sure chemistry with Crosby was the only reason they’d given him another two years on the team.

He had his work ethic, sure, but Bryan Swiss-Army-Knife Rust was really—ironically—only good for one thing. Chemistry with anyone who even looked at him right.

Out in the hallway, he heard a familiar tread on the stairs, and a moment later, Geno appeared, yawning hugely and swinging a bottle of water between his first two fingers. “Get lucky?” he asked and rubbed his eyes.

Bryan offered the same shrug and the same answer as always. “Depends on your definition, but, no, not this time.”

“Too bad,” Geno said with a crooked grin. “Only for me, I guess.” He looked Bryan in the eye, and their connection tugged at Bryan’s bottom ribs, ready to bloom through him into the chemistry they’d shared in their run to the Cup last year. Anytime they shared a line, it was there, like Geno grabbing him into a rib-crushing hug—waiting to wrap him up and fill him up with that rush. 

Bryan missed it. Geno was easy compared to Sid. In some ways more than others, of course.

Geno shoved him gently. “You stay, right?”

“Yeah, I just need a snack quick.”

“Good.” Geno nodded. “Go eat. Big workout.” He gave Bryan another grin and disappeared into Sid’s room for the night, leaving Bryan alone by the stairs.

There was irony here, too. Sid fucking Bryan for chem they weren’t finding. Geno _not_ fucking Bryan even though they had plenty of it. Geno and Sid fucking just because they wanted to and didn’t care that after a decade of playing together, they’d never sparked a connection. And Bryan here on his way to an empty guest room. Bowlegged from Sid wedging his thighs open, pleasantly sore, and utterly alone.

*  
He lived in the same building as Knuckles, Shearsy, and Willy, and on any given night, he’d find them at each other’s places. They stayed close because they’d come up together. The first chemistry Bryan had on the team was with Willy down in Wilkes, then Shearsy, then Knuckles. 

It all still lived in him, in different parts of his body. Willy was a buzzing in his hands and feet, Shearsy was a quick drop in his stomach, like taking a hill too fast, and Knuckles was warmth in his chest, steady and happy. Knuckles felt like home.

Of course, if they didn’t pair sex with hockey, the chemistry retreated to that tingle or that drop or that heat. It didn’t burn him up or race under his skin. Because he was on a line with Sid, he wasn’t supposed to get too close to his old linemates at the risk of starting something up again. Even Conor, on Sid’s other side, stayed clear of Bryan these days to give Sid and Bryan a chance. 

As January got rolling and winter settled in for the long haul, Bryan spent a few nights with Knuckles. They didn’t have sex, obviously, because Bryan liked his job and wanted to keep it, but Bryan hadn’t gone this long without chemistry since his messy sophomore year of college, and it was so easy with Tom, he didn’t see the point in denying himself. They didn’t share a line or bodily fluids anymore, so they could spoon and not worry about anything setting up. Besides, Knuckles and Cully were already tightly connected, and Bryan was trying really hard not to be jealous about it.

“No luck again, huh?” Tom said into the dark as Bryan stripped to his underwear and climbed into bed with him. 

“Nah,” Bryan answered. “I’m beginning to think he’s immune. And I didn’t think anyone was immune to all this.” He gestured from his face down to his dick, then shifted closer to Tom so they could press chest to chest. Heat kindled behind his ribs and soothed the aches that an icepack couldn’t touch. 

Tom exhaled a quiet laugh. “If not even the Chemistry Slut can crack him…”

“Then I’m not sure it can be done,” Bryan finished. He’d given himself the nickname back in college. The team thought it was hilarious, of course. Bryan didn’t find it as funny as he used to. 

“Well, your line is brilliant anyway,” Tom said, because he was a good friend. 

“Thanks, bud.” He sighed. “It’s all Sid, though. Dude works harder than everybody ‘cause he’s gotta make his own chem. It’s pretty incredible to watch, and uh. Benefit from.”

“Yeah, you’ve been walking a little funny these last few weeks,” Tom said. Then he sniggered. “I wasn’t gonna say anything, but I’m glad you’re _benefiting_.”

Bryan pinched Knuckles’ side where he knew he was extra ticklish and shielded his dick from the inevitable knee-jerk. 

“Like I don’t have to hear how much you’ve _learned from Cully’s experience_ all the fucking time. I bet you learned some more after the game tonight.”

He could practically feel Tom’s flush on his skin. “Just a quick one while Sid and the Kids had the press’s attention.”

“He didn’t take you home with him?”

“No. It’s one of his boy’s birthdays.” 

Bryan listened carefully for Tom’s disappointment and heard none. Maybe the connection really was as professional as it was supposed to be, but Bryan knew that big heart of Tom’s didn’t let go easy. 

“I thought you usually slept over when Sid took you home,” Tom said, unsubtly changing the subject.

“I do. But I couldn’t handle an empty guest room tonight.”

Tom was silent for a long moment, during which Bryan tried to remember if he’d ever told anybody that before. “You don’t sleep together on chem nights?” Tom finally asked.

“No, but I get it. He and G have their thing.” That part wasn’t a secret. 

“So, he fucks you, then kicks you out?”

“No—”

“Did he do that with Shearsy, too?”

“Yeah, I think, but—”

“No wonder he hasn’t been able to connect with anyone.” 

Bryan wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Knuckles angry before. Not outside a stupid call during a game, or a mistake he blamed himself for. Not on Bryan’s behalf like this.

“You need to tell Coach,” he said with conviction.

“I—will not be doing that.”

“Why not? If he’s sabotaging his linemates, Coach needs to know. Hell, Mario should know. You shouldn’t take the heat.”

“I wouldn’t. And he’s not—he’s not sabotaging anything.” Bryan leaned away from their cuddle and pushed up onto one elbow. “Trust me on this—Sid is doing his best.”

Tom kept a hand on Bryan’s waist. “It’s about more than sex, Rusty. If he isn’t all in—”

“How could anyone be if they’d been working for chemistry for over ten years and not finding it? Hell, how can I be after all the guys I’ve connected with? I’m just another shot at it. That’s all. And maybe not that good of one.”

Tom shook his head. “You’re more than that.” His hand squeezed. “And he should know.”

“I’ll talk to him about it,” Bryan said, just to put Tom at ease. 

“What are you gonna say?”

“Man, I don’t know exactly. I’ll bring up the sleeping thing, I guess.”

No way in hell was he asking for anything else from Sidney Crosby, of all people. A) who the fuck was Bryan, anyway? And B) Sid gave every waking moment to hockey. How could Bryan ask for his sleeping ones too?

“Make sure you say something,” Tom said. 

Bryan nodded and lay back down, breathing easier when Tom pulled him close again. But he didn’t get much sleep that night.

*

Less than a minute into the second period of a scoreless game against the Bruins, Shearsy sprang Sid for a breakaway, and Bryan felt it all down his spine, goosebumps rising on his skin as he raced down the ice to keep up. Chara left himwide open, and Sid barely had to look at him. But he did, and Bryan felt that, too, Sid’s eyes drilling into him. 

_Yes, good, there you are_. 

He slid the puck to Bryan, and Bryan finished the play just like they’d practiced. The puck hit the back of the net, and the feeling along his spine spread outward. Sid was yelling, and Brian was too, and when Sid slammed into him, it was like the puck on his tape, the puck in the net. _Contact._

Sid thunked his helmet against Bryan’s and looked him in the eye, and Bryan shivered hard at the sensation radiating from the top of his spine. Even though it was different every time, he recognized the signs. Chemistry. His makeup changing, realigning. He’d worked his magic—done his trick. He wasn’t broken, after all, and neither was Sid. Halle-fucking-lujah.

“You feel that?” he said breathlessly.

Sid’s eyes narrowed a little as they broke apart to skate by the bench, but he didn’t answer. If he noticed anything, he didn’t say it aloud. And maybe he wouldn’t even notice, right? The last chem he’d had with anybody was during World Juniors—or so the legend went. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize it now if it bowled him over. And it wasn’t like Bryan could interrupt the game to tell him.

And, he supposed, it was a good thing he didn’t. Their goal started the scoring, and he and Sid set Shearsy up for two more. With each one, and Sid’s late in the third, the chem took a stronger hold, anchoring Sid under his skin. Sid grabbed him after every goal, and after a month of Bryan reaching with no one reaching back, Sid seemed to have a hold now right on his spinal column.

Bryan’s whole body was blazing by the end. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see in replays the base of his skull all the way to the base of his spine lit up like a beacon. Sid had burned a pathway into him, and they played the rest of the game like one player split into two.

When the buzzer sounded, and they’d won 5-1, four of those goals had come from their line. Sid waited by the gate like always, bumping fists with the guys as they passed down the tunnel. Bryan hung back behind Muzz and Flower, not confident he could speak, with or without the stutter. It seemed more likely his heart would burst. 

When he got to Sid, his mind went entirely blank, his body one giant, living nerve.

Sid wedged his glove under one arm and grabbed the front of Bryan’s jersey in his free hand. He twisted his fist in it and looked down at the bunched-up fabric before looking up again, expression fierce. He tipped his head against Bryan's, and they breathed in together, a long, synchronized inhalation.

Maybe he couldn’t speak either. Sometimes these things were really intense. What was there to say, anyway? Sid finally nodded toward the tunnel and waited for Bryan start down it with him, not letting go of his jersey. They practically tumbled into the room, back- and butt-slaps coming from everyone they passed. 

Bryan hardly felt them. Without thinking, he followed Sid to his stall and helped him out of his gear, bending down to undo the laces of his skates. When that was done, they left Sid’s gear in a pile, and Sid started in on Bryan’s. 

“Oh shit, somebody’s feelin’ it tonight. Maybe this time, eh boys?” somebody behind them said. Bryan couldn’t have even said for sure who it was beyond possibly a Swede. 

“Shit—no, don’t you see the signs? They’re totally locked in. Rusty did it! The Chemistry Slut strikes again!”

“For real? Hey, way to go Rusty!” 

Sid yanked on the Velcro of Bryan’s chest protector, jerking him forward a half step, and Bryan struggled to wriggle out of it. He kept his eyes on Sid, and Sid hardly looked away from him, as though they might lose the connection if they let anyone else in. They shouldn’t, but Bryan wasn’t about to take any chances with this one. Sid held his gaze and asked him without opening his mouth not to even blink. 

“Come on,” Sid said, when they were both stripped down to their under-layer. His voice was rough, the first either of them had spoken since the game. When Bryan nodded and they headed for a chem room, everyone cheered, and Bryan risked a quick look over his shoulder.

He spotted Knuckles right away and got an exultant thumbs-up from him. Shearsy’s was more reserved. 

Geno’s face was entirely blank.

But then they turned a corner, and the noise of the dressing room vanished. Another turn and the sound of a door latching, and they were alone. They’d done this probably two dozen times, anyway, but Bryan shook down to his bones as Sid backed him up to the bed. 

Bryan had established chem with close to fifteen teammates in his career, and here he was, fucking shaking. 

So was Sid. These were Sid’s nerves. This was his excitement and fear. His urgency. _Quick, now, before it's gone_. He could hardly grip the hem of his own shirt to tug it off. 

“Hey man, it’s all right,” Bryan croaked. He took hold of the shirt and pulled it off himself. “The hard part’s already over. We did it.”

Sid shook his head. “You did it. That goal—it was so perfect.” His eyes were like gold fire as he drew Bryan down into his lap. Hard-on outlined in his spandex, he rocked up against Bryan as Bryan ground down. The groan that came from their lips could have come from the same throat. 

Sitting in the middle of the bed, Sid let his knees butterfly open as Bryan settled in close against him, his legs wrapped around Sid’s waist. Any other day before this one, they would have been all knees and elbows on the way to this, but they fit together like a latching gate. They didn’t bother removing that last bit of clothing. The only thing that mattered was proximity and heat and sinking. Falling. Dissolving. 

Bryan rocked against Sid, and Sid clawed his fingers against Bryan’s back with blunt nails, pressing against him and lighting him up like Christmas. With every moment, Bryan tipped further into him until his forehead rested on Sid’s shoulder and his breath gusted against Sid’s neck.

Sid’s pleasure was his and was Sid’s and was his and was Sid’s, and fuck, he’d missed this. So fucking what if this was all he was made for? There were way worse things.

They finished together, because that was how this worked, orgasm radiating up his spine at the same time that Sid clutched at him. His back bowed perfectly, and when Bryan gently scraped his nails between Sid's shoulder blades, he shivered hard and gasped. Overstimulated. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, arms clenching tight around Bryan's middle.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“No.” Sid rubbed his face against Bryan's throat and gradually tipped them sideways so they lay with legs locked together. “No, do that again.” Sid leaned back enough to see him, and his eyes were wet, his lashes clumped and his cheeks flushed. This was the good stuff. Bryan fucking _lived_ for this ache of new connection. He flexed his fingers at the base of Sid's skull, digging them into his hair and trailing them down his cervical vertebrae, and Sid shuddered in his arms and hid his face in the crook of Bryan's elbow. 

“How the fuck does that feel so good?” His voice was muffled against Bryan's skin as he grabbed Bryan closer and did the same thing to him, stimulating the site of their chemistry.

"That's where it lives," Bryan said in a rush, arching at the sensation. "It's always going to be intense there." 

Sid nodded and pressed his forehead to Bryan's again. Brain-to-brain. “You have to tell me everything,” he said. “I want to know everything.”

“Okay, yeah.” Bryan smiled. “I’d love to.”

“Come over to mine tonight,” Sid said, and rolled on top of him. He braced his weight on his knees and held Bryan up against him with one arm around his waist. He sniffed hard, hectic and flushed, and he'd never been more gorgeous. “Bring a bag, all right?”

Bryan nodded, his throat tight with emotion. Dread at the thought of leaving Sid for even an hour. Anticipation for the whole night ahead of them. “Okay.” His voice wobbled and caught. He didn't even care. 

*

Geno’s car wasn’t in the driveway when Bryan pulled in around 11:30 that night. Not too weird, considering. Sid must have talked to him by now about the chemistry. It was cool of G to give them a little space. 

Retrieving his bag from the backseat, Bryan told himself to play it cool. That hour had done him good. Sid was the ultimate professional, and Bryan could have no better role model. Even if all Bryan wanted was for them to climb back inside each other and cuddle, however Sid played this, Bryan would follow his lead. 

_Hey, I’m here_ he texted on his way up the driveway. Sid met him at the door, dressed for falling asleep on the couch—Pens sweats and stretched-out t-shirt.

“Hey, come in,” he said, looking Bryan up and down. “Do you want anything to eat? A beer?”

Sid was nervous. In the weeks they’d been trying for chemistry, he’d let Bryan have the run of the house. Food, beer, TV—whatever he wanted. “I ate after the game, actually," Bryan answered. "Or, I mean, after we…” Sid would remember; he was there.

Sid nodded quickly and dug his fingers through his shower-damp hair. Bryan wanted to touch it, too. He wanted to be allowed to touch it, but they had yet to touch each other in a way that didn’t facilitate hockey or fucking. 

“Do you wanna just sleep?” Sid asked. “We should probably…we should sleep together, right?”

 _Usually helpful_ , Bryan didn’t say. One did not just _tell_ Sidney Crosby things like that.

Except— “You’ve gotta tell me what works for you,” Sid said. “I don't.” He hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "You know I don't have a lot of experience with this."

And, no, it wasn't exactly a state secret that Sid hadn't connected on his own team. But the last thing Bryan would do was rub that in. 

“We could watch highlights for a little?” he suggested, gesturing toward Sid’s TV room. Sid was dressed for that couch, and Bryan wanted to be on it with him. 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Sid said, shoulders dropping in relief. 

“And I’d take a Gatorade.”

“Great, I’ll go grab one for you. Just, uh, make yourself comfortable.” He backed up as he said it, and Bryan came the rest of the way into the house, biting his tongue to keep from saying, “I have been here a few times, Sid.” Maybe to Sid, this felt like the first time.

In the den, the TV was already turned to the last West coast game, and Bryan collapsed onto the couch with a groan. Was this going to get weird now? After all the sex? In his experience, this was not the weird part. The, _Hey, I just met you last week, but coach thinks we could have something, so will you touch my dick?_ part—that was weirder.

Sid returned a moment later and dropped down beside him, handing over the Gatorade and pressing his knee against Bryan’s. He watched Bryan for a few breaths, maybe looking for some evidence of what had changed between them, and stiffened slightly when Bryan slid along the back of the couch just enough to press into his shoulder. 

The chem heated his spine, melting him back into the couch cushions, and beside him, Sid blew out a long exhale. “Oh. That’s so wild.”

“Right?” Bryan shot him a quick smile. “Never gets old.”

“I believe it.” He put his feet up on the ottoman and leaned more steadily into Bryan’s shoulder. “What’s the longest you’ve had it? With one guy, I mean?” 

Bryan put his feet up alongside Sid’s. The length of the day, and the miraculous thing his brain and body had just done a handful of hours ago were catching up to him. But Sid wanted to know everything, and Bryan wanted to tell him. “Uh, let’s see. Definitely at Notre Dame. Probably my center junior year.”

“Anybody I’d know?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. I had a thing with Anders Lee, though, too which worked out pretty well. And Riley Sheahan.”

“Do you miss him? Them? Do you miss having this with them?”

Bryan shook his head. “Not now, no." Not with Sid so close and new. "It got harder senior year, then going to Wilkes from there. I started getting bumped around a lot more. Nature of the business.” The coaches caught on to how versatile he was, and the Chemistry Slut reputation was solidified.

Sid made a thoughtful sound. “I’m not sure which would have been harder—switching linemates trying to find chemistry or finding chemistry with different linemates and still having to switch.”

“I don’t know. Both.” Though he'd mostly liked it at the time, he thought, _Mine. It was harder for me._

“Yeah.” They watched the game for a while in silence, Bryan drifting slowly toward sleep. Sid breathed steadily next to him, and even though the rest of him was still, his mind was busy working through this new puzzle Bryan had given him.

So Bryan asked, “Where’s G tonight?”

That yanked Sid out of his thoughts. He shifted his feet on the ottoman. “It was a chem night for him and Horny, so I think he’s there. Horny doesn’t usually go to Geno’s.”

“That’s dumb—Geno’s house is awesome.” He said it with his eyes closed but cracked one open when Sid didn’t respond right away.

“I forget sometimes you were with him first.”

"I was with Cully before him. And Knuckles.”

“No, I mean, before me.” 

He paused, and Bryan asked, “Did he ever talk about it? Me?”

Sid shook his head. “No. He keeps his chemistry stuff separate from what we’ve got.”

“That must be nice,” he said. It was a reflex, something he hadn't even known he wanted to say out loud. This was what he got for talking while sleepy. He rubbed his eyes and sat up a little straighter. “I mean, it—it’s nice that you guys can keep work and relationship stuff separate.” He’d never had much luck on that front.

Sid turned to look at him, intention swelling within their connection—the question of whether to share this thing that Geno kept separate. And Sid was not G, so he said, “I think it’s mostly that I’ve never had this.” He gestured at Bryan. “And he knows how much I wanted it, so he didn't want me to be upset or jealous.”

Their eyes locked, and Bryan felt comfortably…possessed. Owned. Slotted in. He hated flailing around by himself. Sidney Crosby had him now—had him by the backbone. And Bryan could thrive under these conditions.

He didn’t have to say any of that. Sid felt it. He pinned Bryan with that look, with those Captain-Sid-eyes, and said, “Whatever I have to do to make sure this sets and sticks, I’ll do it.”

And it was good he didn’t have to speak, because he didn’t know what he would have said. 

_It’d be cool if you could just like me_ , floated up from one of those dark places of the Rust soul, but he shoved it aside with a quick kiss to Sid’s stubbly jaw. The first of its kind within their new connection. It was enough to bring a shiver of heat to his whole middle, and Sid wrapped an arm around himself in reaction. A surprised smile pulled at his mouth. 

He shifted on the couch, folding one leg under him and turning to face Bryan more directly. A look of familiar determination crossed his face before he put his hand on the back of Bryan’s neck and leaned in to kiss… his cheek. First one, then the other. He hesitated, and Bryan blinked to see Sid’s blurry-close eyes open, too. The moment of hesitation passed when Sid pressed a careful, dry kiss to his mouth. 

Bryan’s chest lifted on an inhale, but he kept his lips closed. They hadn't kissed when they fucked before, and the science behind the chem said kissing and other "gestures of romantic affection" didn't help. And nobody'd asked Bryan. He let himself touch Sid's hair instead, scraping his fingers gently at the back of Sid’s head. And just like he hoped, Sid shivered and moaned. 

“Sorry,” Bryan said by reflex, though he wasn't.

Sid shook his head. “No, it’s okay. Just amateur hour over here.” He offered one of his self-effacing smiles. The kind that made Bryan want kiss it off. “We should probably go to bed. You’re really tired, right? That's what I'm... I can feel that I think.”

“I am, and you do,” Bryan agreed. “And that probably means you’re gonna sleep like the dead tonight, too. It’s one of the perks, if you ask me.”

“Nice,” Sid answered agreeably. When he started out of the room ahead of Bryan, Bryan quickened his steps to catch up. He knew the way, after all.

*

The next day at practice the team was all aflutter with the news of his and Sid’s chemistry. Phil and Hags led a slow-clap that eventually had the whole team laughing. Horny thumped him on the back just a little too hard and said, “I tried for two years, and it takes you less than two months! Unbelievable.”

Cully, as serene and supportive as he was about everything else, shook his hand, looked him in the eye, and said, “Your gift is truly a blessing.” Then he winked, and Bryan felt that cool spark of their old chemistry along his scalp.

In private moments, the Wilkes boys pulled him aside to wish him sincere congratulations on the maintenance of his reputation. 

Dumo gave him a red-faced bro-hug, but Tanger hung back and regarded him with suspicion. Not that he and Tanger ever really talked, but the looks he was shooting between Sid and Geno spoke as loudly as his silence. Flower was guarded too in his well-wishes, saving most of them for Sid.

Which made sense. Flower, Tanger, Sid, Kuni, and Geno were the core. They’d be far more interested in what their captain had managed after more than ten years of trying than what Bryan did almost as easy as skating. 

Contrary to what Willy said, Bryan did not, in fact, need everyone to like him. But avoiding active suspicion was nice.

He couldn’t dwell on any of this long, however, because once practice got going, Sid was _relentless_. Through drills and line rushes, Sid lit him up—muscle and blood and brain. He’d been on Sid’s line for a while now, and it wasn’t like he’d never done it before this most recent stint. He was proud to say he could keep pace with Sidney Crosby, but _fuck_. Sharing chemistry, feeling it settle deep in him, changed the game. It was a whole different game.

“Again.”

Bryan grinned around his mouthguard as they set up for another faceoff drill and somebody groaned. Undaunted, Bryan got ready for the scramble, and as soon as the puck hit the ice, he knew where it was headed, knew the distribution of Sid’s weight, the angle of his stick, and the slightly awkward knuckling of the puck. 

The moment Sid got his stick on it, Bryan darted to where it would squirt free, collected it, and carried it by Horny a few feet into the offensive zone before Sully blew the whistle.

“Again.”

Sid shot him a wide smile and popped out his mouthguard in a way that Bryan had always thought was flirtatious. Now it was aimed at him, he was certain of it. Approval and pure, giddy excitement radiated from him. Sidney Crosby had just found a way to be even better at hockey—one he’d previously been barred from. There was, quite possibly, no one in the world who could stop them now.

Except maybe Geno setting up opposite him in the faceoff dot, with Horny behind him.

Bryan could not wait to scrimmage. By the looks of it, Geno and Sid couldn’t either.

*

They’d barely gotten in the door when Sid backed him up against his kitchen counter and started stripping him. 

“Whoa, hey, all right,” Bryan huffed, lifting his arms as Sid tugged at his shirt. This had been building through most of practice. It’d been thick in the car on the ride home from Cranberry. Bryan was still a little shocked to have Sid dropping to his knees on his kitchen floor and mouthing at his dick through his underwear. 

“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt,” Sid told him just as he snapped the elastic band behind Bryan’s balls.

Bryan tried to smother a yelp and mostly failed. “That wasn’t.”

“Sorry.” Sid’s grin was crooked because his face was crooked, and because he wasn’t very sorry. Everybody knew he liked it a little rough. And with Sid’s arousal pumping through him, Bryan kinda did too. He braced his elbows on Sid’s cold granite counter, tilted his head back, and put himself inside Sid, on his knees, sucking his own dick. Sid’s mouth tightened around him in a smile.

After, they sat slumped against the side of the kitchen island, a roll of paper towels between them for cleanup. Bryan rubbed at his beard with a clean one, but he could tell he had a little stuck there on his chin. With a grunt, he shoved up to wet the towel.

“Let me,” Sid offered, when he’d sunk back to the floor. “I can see better than you.” Bryan handed it over, and Sid took hold of his chin in a grip much gentler than when Bryan had taken his turn at sucking him off. He rubbed the paper towel with and against the grain of Bryan’s beard, meticulous and demonstrative. 

“We could just shower,” Bryan said, though he liked the focus Sid had on his face.

“Would that help?”

“With the jizz on my chin? Yeah.” 

Sid snorted quietly and tossed the paper towel over Bryan’s face. “I meant with our chemistry.”

Bryan shrugged. “I always operated like it all helps. Not everybody agrees, I guess.”

“The science says it’s repeated professional practice and sex—those are the two biggest factors.”

“I’m sure they are,” Bryan answered. He dropped the paper towel in a damp heap on the tile. “But you ask any of the guys I came up with how it set, and they’ll tell you it’s sleeping and showering and all the little shit you do with somebody you trust. There’s not much you can hide in a sleeper bus bunk.”

Sid ‘hmm’d quietly. 

“Not—that I think that’s what’s kept you from finding chem with your other linemates,” Bryan backpedaled. “I’m not like, telling you how to do it.”

Sid flashed him a quick smile. “No?”

“No, just. That’s what has worked for me in the past. But it wasn’t what got us working, so who the fuck knows for sure, right? I mean—guys who’re in serious relationships—it’s asking a lot, probably too much, for all that other stuff. It was easy for me and the boys in Wilkes. We were pretty much living together already. That’s not what you and I have going on. You’ve got Geno.” Though Geno had made himself really scarce. And Bryan had started to babble, his words speeding up and tripping over each other on their way out. He’d sworn he would never criticize Sid’s technique, and here he was. 

Sid regarded him thoughtfully. “Whatever it was, it was you,” he said. “Because I did all that—working, fucking, sleeping, showering, eating. Living. I did all that, and none of it worked. Then we had a nice goal—not even our nicest goal—and there you were. Like a miracle.”

Bryan’s breath caught. He’d never been a miracle before. U.S. hockey players had a thing about that word, whether Sid knew it or not.

“So, do you wanna shower with me?” Sid asked.

“Sure, okay.”

With practice over and another home game the next day, they had nothing but time that afternoon. Bryan thought about asking if Sid wanted G to come hang out. It’d be nice, the three of them. They could play some video games, maybe nap a little. He and Sid could sit close and soak in their connection. All in all, a perfect Monday.

But after they’d rinsed and dried off, Sid brought him to the bedroom and pulled him onto his giant bed. He tugged the blankets down and guided Bryan to lie naked with him on the sheets. Bryan liked sex, obviously. He was a 24-year-old guy—of course he liked it and thought about it and wanted it as much as he could get it. But they’d just sucked each other off like twenty minutes before and Bryan was ready to do something else.

Sid just looked at him, though. Looked and touched. Turned on his side, he put his hand flat on Bryan’s chest and traced the shape of his pecs, the track of his sternum, and the bump of each rib. He rubbed the backs of his knuckles down Bryan’s stomach and between the crests of his hips. Then he reversed course and came back up, hooking his fingers against Bryan’s collar bone and tracing along it from one shoulder to the other. He gripped Bryan’s biceps and thumbed the edge of muscle that wrapped into his armpit, then rubbed down the inside of his arm to each wrist. By the time he was finished, every inch of Bryan’s skin was humming. 

Rolling onto his back, Sid asked silently for Bryan to follow him and do the same. He hardly blinked. And holding that eye contact while they touched was maybe the most intimate thing Bryan had ever done. He outlined Sid’s broad body with the tips of his fingers, traced his edges, and relearned him by sight and touch, that knowledge slotting in alongside what their chemistry told him about his internal makeup.

When he’d finished, even the air hummed with energy, and the only thing for Bryan to do was climb over him and make sure all their skin was touching. It was as inevitable and natural as inertia. They were both hard again, and with the help of the lube still sitting out by the bed, they rubbed off on each other, Sid’s hands restless between Bryan’s waist and his ass. Bryan mouthed at his throat for as long as he could stand it, then leaned up and pressed his mouth to Sid’s.

Sid groaned and opened like he’d been waiting, the warm, wet kiss shocking through them right to the base of their spines. Getting off like this was more work after the dizzy speed of blowjobs in the kitchen, and when they finally crested that wave together, they were both shaky and sweating, muscles trembling with fatigue. The clock by the bed told them it’d been hours since they’d come upstairs.

Bryan collapsed half on top of him and rubbed his damp forehead against Sid’s shoulder. “Holy fuck. Why even shower, ever?” If he and Sid just lived in this loop of closeness, sex, release, rest, and repeat, they’d get so much DNA on each other, they’d be indistinguishable.

There may have been a point in his life when that would have grossed him out, but right then he couldn’t recall it.

Sid managed a tired laugh and curled the arm trapped under Bryan’s body to trace lightly down his spine. Over-sensitive to the point of discomfort, Bryan shuddered and shied away from his fingers, pressing tight to Sid’s front.

“Sorry.” Sid stopped instantly. 

“It’s okay,” Bryan said. “Just a little too intense.”

“Is it always like this?” Sid asked.

“What do you mean?” 

“Is it always going to feel like this? This…crazy?”

Leaning up on one elbow, Bryan found Sid looking at him with—well, it felt like something in the middle of awe, amazement, and fear. Like he never wanted to leave this room, but he wondered if he should.

Bryan remembered his first-ever chemistry, just shy of seventeen on the US Development Team in Ann Arbor. Matt was from Long Beach and crazy homesick. Bryan was barely an hour from home and saw his family all the time. The U-18 teams weren’t allowed to push chemistry between underage kids, but if it happened naturally, what could they do? 

Bryan took Matt home with him for a night after a rough week. They kissed in his bedroom, just once. Just to try it. Everyone dreamed of finding the kind of chemistry that would make a career—like Carter and Richards. Best friends on the National team, then drafted together in the first round to the Flyers. It almost never happened, but that didn’t stop horny, homesick teenagers from trying it. 

They kissed, and Bryan’s brain almost exploded. Along with some other stuff. With Matt, his stutter didn’t matter. On the ice and off, he was _known_. At sixteen, it was fucking fantastic and terrifying because sixteen-year-olds were terrifying. 

When Matt went home to California that summer, and their connection leached away, slipping out of Bryan in a way he couldn’t slow down or plug up, Bryan swore he’d never recover. Matt was quite literally the best and worst thing to ever happen to him, especially when they were together again the following year and their chemistry was just…gone. A ghost somewhere inside Bryan and nowhere in Matt. 

They both moved on. Bryan moved on quickly.

Aside from his mystery chemistry back at World Juniors—and Bryan was beginning to doubt it had ever existed—Sid had gone almost thirty years without ever knowing the inside of anybody else. Without ever being known. Experiencing it now was one hell of a mindfuck. Bryan could tell.

“For me, yeah,” Bryan answered finally. “It’s always like this. But it’s different for everybody.”

Sid nodded, eyes dazed, and maybe they were both a little stoned on the feedback loop of their closeness. Bryan thought he could melt into the mattress if he closed his eyes. 

“What’s it like for you?" Sid asked. "I feel like I know, but… will you tell me?” 

Bryan shifted a little, settling his head more comfortably in the crook of Sid’s shoulder. “It’s like… getting picked up after practice, and your parents are super late, and it’s dark out, and everybody else is gone, and you weren’t sure they were gonna come. And then you get in the minivan and shut the door, and you’re safe.” He craned his neck to briefly meet Sid’s eyes. “Every time is different. Sometimes it’s that wild guy you probably shouldn’t get in a car with. Sometimes it’s your best friend or a total stranger or somebody you’ve idolized since you were a kid. Variations on a theme, I guess.”

Sid twitched a smile. “Wow.”

“What about you? What’s it like for you?” Bryan asked, hiding his flush against Sid’s chest.

He felt Sid shrug under him. “Not sure yet. I don’t have an image as vivid as yours. But it feels like… I don’t know. Like I’ve been with the same people my whole life, and you’re the first one to actually turn around and talk to me. Everyone was just walking by until you.”

Bryan shivered. “That’s pretty vivid.”

“Yeah, and it’s probably dumb.” Sid huffed. “No shortage of people talking to me, I know.”

“It’s not dumb.” Bryan flushed even warmer and held the image Sid had given him close like the gift it was. If they were the only two people in the whole world, that afternoon, Bryan wouldn’t have cared. He didn’t have room for anyone else, anyway.

*

Sid was stressed. It might have been because, in the two games since he and Bryan had connected, not only had the team lost both games and Geno to a knee injury, but their line had failed to register a point. That all certainly sucked, but they were going to lose sometimes, and it didn’t seem like G would be out long-term. Also, figuring out new chemistry took a little time in a game setting, especially when the best player in the world had never had it before. There would be an adjustment period. Maybe for them, a long one.

So there was that. But Bryan would put money on Geno being the source of Sid’s stress. They’d exchanged a few tense words after the game tonight, and in the last week, Sid had barely come up for air. Bryan hadn’t spent a single night in his own bed. Geno hadn’t come around once, not even after his injury against Saint Louis, and in the morning, Sid was headed to LA for All-Star weekend. 

Basically, Bryan had the flight home from Boston to sort this out. Which he could totally do because Sid was sitting with Flower, and Geno had a seat to himself, his coat on with his collar in full, upright, don’t-talk-to-me position. All the time and opportunity he needed.

Bryan dropped into the seat next to him and was grateful Geno couldn’t feel his nerves anymore. When he was settled, he waited, but it was several seconds before Geno finally looked up from his phone, his bushy eyebrows lifted. 

“Hey,” Bryan opened. 

“Hi,” Geno answered. 

If he was hoping for inspiration to strike once he’d started, Bryan was disappointed. His mind went blank except for the truth: _I stole your boyfriend for a week. Sorry._

“I stole your boyfriend for a week, and I’m sorry.” There, at least it was out now.

Geno snorted and rolled his eyes. He looked out the window into the black night sky. “It’s not just for week. And you not steal.”

“Things’ll calm down soon. The shine will wear off me, and you guys will go back to normal.” That was what always happened when he connected with somebody in a committed relationship. It had happened with him and Geno last season.

With another huff, Geno turned back to him, a smile twisting his mouth. “Rusty, you still shiny. Sid not get tired of you. I know.”

“But it’s separate from you and him.” He gestured decisively to make his point extra clear. “It’s a work thing. It’ll go back to a work thing once he settles into it. That’s all I wanted to say.” Bryan was actually looking forward to a couple nights in his own bed, to be honest. An evening out with the boys and a cuddle with Tom. Some space to breathe. The All-Star break was gonna be a little painful after so many days of sustained closeness, but it was probably well timed. Their chemistry was good and set now.

Geno shook his head, that smile turning a little sad. “So easy to separate, huh? Work and love.”

“For Sid, I’m sure it is.” Bryan threw all his weight behind his confidence. “He’s the most professional guy I know. No offence.”

Geno shrugged. “No offence. But I have question. How good Sid is at separating hockey and life? Hockey and love?”

“Well.” The words stalled in his throat. Sid, who went on vacation and played hockey—who ran a hockey school in his offseason. Sid, who, if this week was anything to go by, seemed to think repeated hockey drills were foreplay. 

“And how is going for you? Separating work and love?”

“All right, now.” Bryan’s voice caught, his chest tightened, and he sucked in a breath to calm the spasm in his throat.

“You have girlfriend waiting for you? Boyfriend?”

That was mean, and it hurt like a blunt bite hurt—a sharp pinch and a deep ache.

“I’m—” He floundered. What could he say? _I’m a bad example_. Or, _They didn’t offer “How to Keep Something for Yourself Outside Hockey” at Notre Dame._

But Geno took pity on him, which was maybe worse than Bryan having nothing to say to him. “I should not say.” He shook his head. “Sorry. Stupid.”

“Not stupid, mean,” Bryan grumbled.

“Sorry. I miss… I wish we still…” Geno leaned a little closer to him and reached across the armrest to touch Bryan’s bottom ribs, where their chemistry had lived. “You know what I mean if we still have this.”

“Probably,” he said, still stung. Communicating with Geno had been a piece of cake when they were tied tight.

Geno huffed in frustration. “All I’m say is, it’s hard to keep hockey chemistry separate from life. It’s _hard_.”

“You did okay with me,” Bryan said stubbornly, an accusing note slipping into his voice that he couldn’t keep back. 

“Oh yeah?” Geno exhaled sharply and shook his head. 

“Sid doesn't know a thing about us. And you didn’t seem to have any trouble moving on this season. A pretty smooth transition to Horny, seemed like.” Jesus Christ, he needed to shut up like ten minutes ago. He needed to invent time travel and let past-him know that this was a terrible idea. Why did he think he could fix Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin’s romance problems, when he’d just said this was a work problem? Who the fuck was Bryan Rust, and what was he doing?

“I protect what I have with you from everybody, not just Sid. And it's not my choice to end chemistry. It's never my choice.” His voice had gone very soft.

And, intellectually, Bryan had known that to be true. Hockey was a business. Chemistry was part of that business. He hadn’t known he needed to hear Geno say it and mean it until right then.

“Oh. I—I know that.”

“Good.” Geno nodded sharply.

They sat together in silence for a bit, listening to the quiet conversation around them. Fuck, hopefully no one was listening in. Geno was right, if they’d still had their chem from last season, this conversation would not have gone this way. Then again, if they still had chemistry, they wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.

“Hey.” Bryan sat up a little straighter. “Maybe—maybe I could see if both worked.”

“Both?”

“Yeah. Maybe there’s a way I could have it with both you and Sid.”

Geno shook his head. “You think they don’t try? Forward lines have three, but no chem for three.”

“But they didn’t have me before. They didn’t have the Chemistry Slut on the case.”

Geno scoffed. “What I say—you stop using that name. I hate that name.”

Bryan grinned, the sting of Geno’s earlier words soothed away.

“And, no. It’s too much risk try chemistry with Sid and me. You have with Sid. He’s never have before. It’s important. You important.”

“But we could try.”

“What if we do, and Sid lose? Or I lose with Horny? No, if Sid have with you, he’s supposed to. Just you.” 

Bryan didn’t need to still have chemistry with Geno to feel the heaviness of those words. To see the sadness around his eyes. And worse, the resignation.

“But Sid picked you,” he said firmly. “And you picked him. That’s the most important thing.”

Geno pressed his mouth into a line and patted Bryan’s knee three times, gripping it hard on the last one. He nodded again but didn’t say anything.

*

Bryan had his night out with the guys and his cuddle with Knuckles on Friday, but by Saturday, he wanted Sid back. He figured Geno did too, so he decided driving over to Geno’s place to hang out was a decent idea.

Geno was grumpy about his wrapped knee and how long he’d be out, but he didn’t seem grumpy about Bryan, so that was good. He generously offered to order dinner from a European place that delivered, and they settled in to watch the skills competition with perogies and stuffed cabbage in their bellies.

Geno scoffed at Ovi’s hamming for the camera, rolled his eyes, and clicked his tongue dismissively at every event until Bryan finally laughed out loud.

“Come on, G, you’re telling me you wouldn’t want to be there right now?”

“No!” Geno gestured rudely at the TV. “So stupid, come on. Sleep much better.”

“Not even if you could be there with Sid? When’s the last time that happened?”

“Never. Always me or him. But not important, anyway.”

Bryan watched McDavid fly around the ice in the speed competition and gave a wistful sigh. “Man, I’d go in a heartbeat.”

“So you lucky you’re never invited,” Geno said with a shitty grin.

“Asshole,” Bryan laughed.

They watched the biggest guys in the game clobber the shit out of the hardest shot competition. Then Sid worked his magic in the shootout competition and Bryan said, “I guess it wouldn’t matter that much for you guys. You’re like an institution. You don’t need All-Star Weekend for a date-night, or whatever.”

“What you mean, institution?” Geno asked. He looked over from his recliner, his knee elevated, and his eyebrows sloped like he was ready to get offended.

“I mean you guys have been together forever. You’re solid. That’s all.”

Geno shook head. “We not together forever.”

“Well, okay, basically forever.”

“How long you think?” Geno asked. He was looking right at Bryan now, the TV forgotten.

A little nervous, Bryan reached for his beer. “Well, aside from playing together, obviously, since…like your first Cup, right?”

Geno snorted and shook his head. “Where you hear that?”

“I don’t know,” Bryan said honestly. Probably he and the guys had speculated that was how long, and it’d become truth. History. No one had corrected them. “Why, how long have you been together?”

“Three years this March.” At Bryan’s expression of surprise, Geno looked smug.

“That’s it? But that means…” He counted backwards. “You didn’t get together until after Sochi?”

“Yes. I come home, very disappointed, upset. Sid talks to me, and we decide… it’s better together.”

Bryan narrowed his eyes. That was the tidy version. Not that it was really any of his business. Still— “What about all that time before? You’ve played together for like…eleven years now. Why’d you wait so long?”

Geno gave him a long, heavy look, the kind he used to give last year when Coach practically shoved them into bed before the start of playoffs. Weighing. Assessing. Their chemistry had set up dizzyingly fast. When Geno looked at him like that, he tugged on Bryan’s ribs and stole his breath. He didn’t usually do much talking.

“We wait because Sid is looking for chemistry all this time.”

Fuck. 

“After Sochi, we decide, now is good time. He’s not find any. All guys on team are set up or leaving. So we do.”

It sounded so…business-like. It sounded like settling. And that couldn’t be right. Convenience was not the origin story of Sid-and-Geno.

“Didn’t you…” Bryan cleared his throat. “You and Sid tried for chemistry, right? You must have.”

Geno nodded. “Yes. Most my first year in NHL. And part of second.” His expression softened. “Also, many times after. We live together little while, even after coaches split us and we center our own lines.”

Bryan smiled, relieved. That sounded much better. “So, okay, you have been together basically forever. I was right.”

“Not think of it like that at first,” Geno said with a shrug. “We’re very young and stupid. What’s word—naïve. Think it’s just hockey. Chemistry is just hockey.” He looked at Bryan, drawing him back to their conversation on the plane with a sarcastic twitch of his eyebrows. “It’s not. It’s everything.”

“Yeah, but you guys have so much history, even without it. You have more than chemistry.”

“Yes, institution,” he grumbled. “I know.”

“You’re not like us little guys. We’ll all get traded in a year or two. I know I don’t get to keep any of this. You and Sid can make plans.”

_Good work, Rusty. Way to make it sad._

Geno exhaled through his nose. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“You get to choose, G.”

“And you don’t?” Geno’s eyebrows bunched together. “You don’t choose?”

Bryan hesitated. “Not really. And nobody chooses me. It’s okay,” he added at Geno’s severe look. “This is who I am. I don’t really…feel like I have room for much else. You were right, I guess.” He gave Geno a quick smile. 

“Yes, I’m right,” he grumbled and didn’t look too pleased about it.

*

By the time Sid was due home Monday afternoon, Bryan wanted to _climb_ him. Even though it shouldn’t, he worried that going three days not working or sleeping together might fuck with their chemistry. And if Bryan was worried about it, he knew Sid would be. 

He kicked around Geno’s house after practice, making and eating lunch with him to kill time until they heard the sounds of Sid’s arrival in the driveway. Bryan had texted to let Sid know he was at Geno’s, and Sid had decided to come straight there. Which was cool. This wouldn’t be weird.

When Sid walked into the kitchen with his garment bag slung over his shoulder, dressed for civilian travel in jeans and one of his many black t-shirts, Bryan’s mouth went dry. Sid glanced between him and Geno, and for a moment, it was weird. But he should say hi to Geno first, so Bryan got up to put their dishes in the sink, making that choice for him.

“Hey,” Sid finally said. He crossed to Geno first, put his hand between his shoulders, and kissed his temple. “How’s the knee?”

Geno smiled up at him from his barstool, sleepy and fond. He shrugged. “Eh. Not too bad. How is LA?”

Sid shrugged in reply. “Eh. Awesome. And gross. It’s good to be home.”

Bryan stood with his back to the sink, gripping the edge of the counter with both hands. Sid’s eyes found his next, like he wasn’t sure if or when he should look. “Hey,” Bryan said. “I saw you flirting with Ovi this weekend. The whole world saw you. Don’t deny it.”

Sid blinked at him, then grinned. “Jealous?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “I have all my teeth.”

Sid came around the counter, dropping his bags on a barstool as he passed. Brian’s whole body tingled in that lead-up to touch. Sid held his gaze and stepped right into his space. He reached for Bryan’s hip. “Is it still…” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Bryan felt it flare between them—longing and want, a hunger to feel home again and connected. Maybe this whole weekend, that anxiety had been Sid’s, not Bryan’s own.

“Yeah,” Bryan answered. He wrapped his arms around Sid’s big shoulders, and he was entirely the same. _Known_. Chemistry didn’t leak away after three days apart. Of course, it didn’t. 

Sid didn’t kiss him. He pressed his brow to Bryan’s and breathed against his mouth, but they didn’t kiss. They needed. Well, they needed to have sex. No better way to settle the tight feeling in his stomach. But they weren’t alone. Bryan had chosen to be here when Sid got home.

Sid didn’t seem sure he wanted to turn around, so Bryan looked past his shoulder to where Geno still sat on his barstool. He leaned one elbow on the counter as he looked at them. “You want to fuck in my house, is okay with me.” He smiled. “But I get to watch.”

That got Sid to turn around. Bryan thought he might actually catch fire. In the month or so he and Sid had been trying for chem, Geno had never participated. It would have defeated the purpose entirely. But he’d never watched either. Chemistry was separate from committed relationships. How else were professional athletes supposed to have families?

That’s what Bryan had always thought, anyway. Yeah, his Wilkes teammates had all been single—too wrapped up in each other and the game to have anything left for an outside relationship—but Cully and Horny seemed to manage just fine. Cully was the reason Bryan had been able to stay up with the big team last year. And he had a wife and three kids.

Maybe that wasn’t the best model for every situation, though. Maybe to make this work, Sid-and-Geno couldn’t be separate from Bryan-and-Sid. Maybe Bryan really did have a place with them both. 

His mind raced as they climbed the stairs. He barely registered Sid making sure Geno made it up okay.

“Is not broken, Sid,” he grumbled behind them. He settled on the couch across from the bed. It was covered in his clothes, but he didn’t seem to care. He gave Bryan a half smile as Sid pushed him onto the bed, and Bryan couldn’t seem to look away from him, possibilities unspooling in his mind for a future that maybe wasn’t as precarious or fleeting as Bryan had assumed.

A sharp nip at his throat brought his awareness squarely back to Sid. He felt huge kneeling over Bryan like this as they quickly got down to skin. “I missed you,” Bryan offered quietly, shucking his underwear. Dropping his jeans over the side of the bed, Sid looked back to him, unguarded. 

“You have no idea,” he said. “I almost bailed on the game last night to catch a flight home.”

Bryan beckoned him forward with a jerk of his chin, and Sid went to him like they’d been apart for weeks—an entire offseason. He grabbed on and turned Bryan onto his side, toward Geno, then molded himself to his back. 

“I need to get—I need to be in you,” he said, voice thick. 

“Yeah,” Bryan answered, a little overwhelmed with his feelings, and Sid’s. He heard the click of a cap before slick fingers pressed into him. He didn’t need much in the way of preparation after the last few weeks, and Sid knew it. He and Bryan’s ass were good buddies by now, and shortly after the crinkle of the condom wrapper, Sid hooked his hand behind Bryan’s top thigh to open him up a little further and he was in. 

“Fuck,” they both said, and Bryan shut his eyes tight. Sid stayed still for several seconds, as the world seemed to realign and return to rights. The moment of stillness stretched until Bryan inhaled—noisily, like he’d nearly forgotten he needed to—and Sid’s hand tightened on his thigh. He curled his hips up and in, and Bryan moaned.

Sid liked it a little rough, and Bryan could feel him coiling up for it, his thighs and his ass and his back built for hard and fast, built to overwhelm. Sid rolled him back a little, spreading him farther open so he lay half on top of him, his belly to the ceiling. Bryan didn’t want to be overwhelmed yet. So even though he could hardly have moved if he wanted to, he leaned on Sid’s intention and his desire.

_Slow. Easy._

Sid groaned and bit the side of his neck. His hips jack-rabbited, and Bryan leaned harder. _Easyeasyeasy_.

“Fuck, is that you?” Sid asked.

Bryan nodded, concentrating too hard to speak. With every carefully controlled breath, he shaped the arc of Sid’s hips and the strength of his grip. Sid fucked him slow and easy because Bryan wanted it, and it was probably the most impressive thing he’d done since winning a Stanley Cup.

A sound of desperation distracted them both, and Bryan lost his focus at the sight of Geno’s hips lifting into his own grip as he jerked off on the couch, his lower lip pinched between his teeth.

“Fuck, Geno—” Sid’s voice came out strangled, and Bryan tensed all over at the picture Geno made—pants shoved down just enough, his big hand dragging across his own stomach.

“I’m—” Bryan lost every shred of control he had as Sid took hold of him and finished him off with a ruthless grip and the two slowest thrusts of his hips Bryan had ever endured—the perfect marrying of what they both liked. Bryan cried out at the protracted agony of it. He maybe cried a little too as Sid held him through it.

Then, before the shakes had stopped, Sid rolled him onto his side and slid free. He left Bryan on the bed in a heap and lurched unsteadily to his feet and across the room to Geno. 

“G—” he started, but Geno looked up at him with something inscrutable in his expression. His hips arched, and he swore, bringing himself off just as Sid was dropping to his knees in front of him. 

The room was filled with the roughness of their breath, and the thump of Bryan’s own heartbeat, and with Sid and Geno together here, he thought his heart might willingly and happily burst.

*

Less than a week later, they’d lost Shearsy to a busted-up arm after winning in Nashville. Then in St. Louis, Bryan helped Sid to a three-point night and their line, with Kuni slotted in, to six points. “Sid and the Kids” had quickly become “Rusty and the Olds,” but what the hell, right? They killed it after not making it onto the board the night before.

Still out with his knee injury, but much more mobile, Geno traveled with the team, and even better, he followed Sid and Bryan back to Sid’s house to share the giant king-size bed for the night.

Bryan was still a little wound up after the game and so was Sid, though the clock read two in the morning. With Geno snoring on the other side of the bed, Sid crowded in close and kept his voice low.

“You and Shearsy are still tight, eh?”

“Yeah, of course,” Bryan answered. “We came up together.” 

“How long did your chemistry last?”

Bryan thought back. He and Willy and Shearsy and Knuckles had all been in Wilkes together at the start of the 14-15 season. His chem with Shearsy had set when Willy got a callup and then got hurt for a couple months. 

“Probably half a season.”

“Did it end after that? In the offseason?”

“Yeah. We picked it up again, though, to start the next season. Then when we got called up, Cully and Knuckles and I sorta switched off, until Geno.” Tommy had kept down Bryan’s nerves those first weeks until Cully took the reins for a while.

“What did it feel like to lose it? How did you know?”

“Uh.” He huffed softly. “Well, during the season it’s replaced pretty quick if I’m put with somebody else. Which is a weird feeling. But the offseason is harder because it just…leaches out over time.”

Sid shivered next to him. “What’s that like?”

Bryan shrugged. “It’s like forgetting something and knowing you’re forgetting but knowing doesn’t help. There’s nothing to stop it.” He shivered too and rolled to face Sid, wedging his knee between Sid’s. “It’s basically the worst. Do not recommend.” 

“Hmm,” Sid said, the wheels turning even at this time of night. “We should maybe think about our summer plans, then.”

Bryan’s stomach jumped, and feeling his surprise, Sid hesitated. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Bryan answered. “Definitely. Let’s think about them.”

On their other side, Geno snorted softly in his sleep and rolled over.

Sid kissed him, quick and hard on the mouth, and it felt like they’d just started.

*

Nobody liked to lose in a shootout, but Geno always got real grouchy after. That he was extra grouchy after Calgary beat them at home in a game he hadn’t even played was a bit of a red flag. He tramped into Sid’s kitchen with them, agitated and restless. He hardly limped, which was good, but he put both hands on the counter like he was braced against something. Pain or anger. Bryan kept his mouth shut, though the uneasy feeling in his stomach told him he’d find out what Geno was upset about sooner than later. Sid would make sure of that. Big surprise, he didn’t like to lose, either, and a fight was a good way to work it out.

“What’s going on with you, eh?” he asked, right on time. Sid didn’t let things fester with his team.

“Nothing is going on with me,” Geno answered, a mocking tone lurking in his voice.

“Something's bothering you. Does your knee hurt?” He looked right at Geno, unafraid.

“No, I’m just think about summer plans.”

Sid blinked, caught off guard. “Oh.”

When that was the only reaction he got, Geno looked over at Bryan. And Bryan’s stomach dropped right to his toes.

“I mean, we usually hang out for a bit, then you go back to Russia,” Sid said, as though this were what Geno really wanted to talk about. “I know we need to still hammer it out, but I think Bryan is going to come to Cole Harbor for a while to make sure our chemistry keeps over the summer. You could come too. You should.”

Bryan had to give his captain credit. That was a good attempt. Geno’s eyebrows and mouth did a complicated thing where, for a moment, his regret was visible to the naked eye. And Bryan thought he might accept and everything would be all right for a little longer. But he knew Geno too well for that. Geno would say what he was going to say, even if he regretted it.

“No, Sid. I’m not coming to Cole Harbor with you.”

Sid’s face fell. Maybe they’d had this debate before. “Okay. So, what’s your plan, then?”

Geno took a deep breath, and Brian braced. God, he hoped his gut was wrong. “I’m go back to Russia when season ends. That’s my plan. Also…” He licked his lips. “Sid, I’m leaving.”

Sid reared back in alarm, and Bryan froze. He didn’t even breathe. “The _team_?”

Geno rolled his eyes, a sad smile tugging at his mouth. “No, I’m leaving this.” He gestured between himself and Sid, then over to Bryan. “I have to.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m not what you want,” he said. “You have what you want now. You have chemistry.”

Sid shook his head, realization beginning to dawn. “Geno.”

“You not have to settle for this anymore. And it’s too hard for me.”

Sid’s brows sloped down in the beginnings of anger. “What are you talking about, settling? We decided this together. We wanted this.”

“You did, only after you try with everybody else. No other options, you say, ‘Okay, I guess, Geno.’”

“I never said that. That’s what you think?”

Geno shrugged. “It’s what I feel. What else I’m supposed to think? I always say, if he finds chemistry, I’m not get in way. So we have three years, and it’s good.”

“And you’ve never said _that_ ,” Sid said. “They’re not the same at all. You've had chem with four guys since you've been on the team, and I never asked you to choose. One is our job. One is our _life_ , Geno." 

Bryan bit the inside of his lip hard enough to hurt and couldn’t decide whether to remind them he was here and try to head off this fight, or hope to turn to stone.

Geno rolled his eyes and scoffed, and Bryan hoped for stone. “Why is everybody so stupid about this?” he asked the ceiling. “It’s not different—chemistry and…and love. Hockey is your life. I am not separate. Is not one thing and another. I’m just not enough, now you have with Rusty.”

Geno gestured to him again, and Sid turned to look at Bryan for what felt like the first time all night. Bryan wished even harder to be inanimate, but when Sid looked away again, he felt worse. 

“No, you’re more than enough,” Sid said. “You’re who I picked. You’re who I’ve wanted from the beginning.” Sid’s voice got tight. “You can’t leave.”

Geno pressed his mouth into a grimace. “Sid, you already leave _me_. For last month, I never see you. I know is new chem. It’s first chem, but it’s lonely for me. It’s depressing. I know I can never give you this.”

“It’s only temporary,” Sid said, the words coming out so fast they felt like a reflex. Instinct. They felt sharper to Bryan. Violent. “I’ll have more time soon. He won’t have to stay over as much. It’ll just be on the ice and the occasional chem night like everybody else.”

“But it’s not like everybody else!” Geno said and gestured harshly. “You are not like everybody else. You never have before. Now you do, and that’s important. That means something very important. Maybe most important thing.”

“I don’t give a shit what it means. I don’t want to lose you. I _never_ want to lose you.”

Bryan finally managed a breath. He turned sharply away and headed for the door. The door was as far as he could think. It was the only plan he had.

Behind him, Sid and Geno were silent, like they were watching him leave. The plan went off without a fucking hitch, Bryan making it out into the frigid night without anyone trying to stop him. Luckily, he hadn’t even taken off his coat before his whole fucking life dropped out from under him.

He walked briskly to his car. He’d ridden in with Sid after their game-day nap, but he’d driven over after morning skate, so his car was waiting for him like a lifeboat. He dropped inside it, turned it on, and backed out of the driveway without looking again at the house. He didn’t remember to turn his headlights on until a car flashed their high beams in his face and he almost swerved off the road. Then he slowed down, turned the heat on, and tried to breathe. Tried to think. He tried to be cool.

It was a lost cause. It was one thing to feel deep down that he was only worth the chem he could generate with his teammates. It was another to be told as much by Sidney Crosby. He would always be second-best. Not as real. Temporary.

And it was his fault for ever believing any different. 

Why did he never learn? He poured his whole self into every partnership to make it work, and every time he got burned. They just didn’t usually say it to his face like this. Didn’t rub his nose in his inferiority. Bryan was just an involuntary muscle. An instinct. A tool. Good for a few extra goals but not anything real. Nothing outside hockey and sex. Not love. Certainly not a life.

He didn’t know how to be any different. It had fucked him over, and it was the key to his whole fucking career. What could he do?

He couldn’t go home to his empty apartment. But he couldn’t go to one of the guys either. Not like this. Bryan knew himself pretty well by now, and if he felt even a whisper of their old chemistry, he’d snatch at it like the pathetic idiot he was. Hell, he’d go looking for it. He’d fuck himself over again and sabotage his chem with Sid.

_Welcome to a dark moment, Champ. It’s been a while. Let’s string a few together._

So when he pulled into the apartment complex garage, he parked in his usual space, but he didn’t knock on Knuckles’ door. Or Shearsy or Willy’s. He went to the one guy on the team he had no history or risk of chemistry with. 

When he banged on Murr’s door, though, nobody answered. Ducking down to look through the crack underneath, all the lights were out. He wasn’t home. He’d just lost a shootout, which meant he was probably with Flower. One of the rare goalie tandems with chemistry, Bryan supposed it came in handy for nights like these. They didn’t need it for plays, but comfort—that was nice. Wouldn’t that be fucking nice.

Anxiety and regret clutched at him as he stood there in the hallway. But he couldn’t go back, even if some of what he felt was Sid’s. He couldn’t go back, so he went home. He walked up another flight of stairs to his empty apartment and crawled into bed.

*

The next day was a travel day at the start of a quick Western road trip, and Bryan managed to keep at least one of his Wilkes boys between himself and Sid the entire way. They either didn’t notice what he was doing, or they left him alone about it. Thank god for bro friends who knew when not to get involved in personal shit. Bryan had less than no interest in sharing his embarrassment. 

Sid didn’t try to talk to him, either. Geno travelled with the team, and even though he stuck close to Horny and Phil like normal, the way he moved around Sid told Bryan everything he needed to know. It looked like Bryan had averted the breakup of a Pittsburgh institution, after all. By leaving. Sid-and-Geno were going to be fine.

That night, he lay in his hotel bed and sweated through the instinct to go to Sid’s room. Sid’s worry clutched at his guts, and when Bryan closed his eyes all he could see was Sid doing the very same thing. It was such a vivid image, Bryan thought for sure Sid was actually in his room, in Bryan’s body, pressed up just underneath his skin, wearing Bryan like a suit.

Eyes flying open, Bryan rolled off the bed and landed on his knees, fighting down nausea and the simultaneous desire to take a shit. The whole length of his spine prickled with sick heat. He walked down to the hotel bar in his sweatpants and socked feet and ordered the strongest drink he knew. Slugging most of it on the way back up the elevator, he finished it in his room, and slowly relaxed as Sid and he diverged and separated into two discrete people again. The haze from the booze blurred his edges just enough that he could fall asleep.

*

At morning skate, Sid ambushed him. To be fair, it had been a really strong drink, and Bryan had been a little dehydrated already, so he was not at his most alert.

“What did you do last night? What was that?” he said by way of greeting.

Bryan risked a glance over his shoulder and found Sid regarding him with eyes rimmed in red, his face pale beneath his stubble. He looked terrible, and guilt crawled up Bryan’s throat at what he’d done. Who the fuck was he to do this to Sidney Crosby? What were his feelings before Sid’s ability to play the best game possible?

“I needed to sleep. And I needed a little help. I’m sorry.”

Sid looked quickly away, his feelings a jumble that Bryan couldn’t begin to sort through. He didn’t have the energy to try this morning. “You should come to my room tonight, and we can make sure everything’s still cool with our chemistry. Okay?” He glanced quickly back to Bryan and away again.

“Sure,” Bryan answered, heart sinking at the prospect. He wouldn’t be able to stay away this time. He could feel it now, that involuntary pull. That call and response. 

“Are you okay to play tonight? Are we good?”

Bryan tightened his grip on his stick and clamped his teeth shut on a deep breath through his nose before answering. “We’re good.”

*

He was not good. His head was all over the place and so was the rest of him, and his minutes were garbage as a result. At least Sid was a mess, too. Through the guilt of keeping Sid from reaching his 1000th point, he was glad to see Sid didn’t have his shit any more together than Bryan did.

Well he technically did because he was Sid, but by Sid’s standards, it was a shitshow. 

Still, Horny and Phil were on fire, and they had the Pens up 3-0 when a weird check from behind sent Bryan flying into Murr and into the goal. They crashed together, and Bryan’s arm wrenched and twisted. He landed with it caught under them both, and the sound that came out of him was…not pretty. Nearby, Sid’s shout of distress sounded strangely like his own, even as he segued it into a call for a penalty.

They didn’t get one, and once Murr helped him up and gave him a push toward the bench, Horny and Phil came over the boards. Sid stayed out as Bryan made his way down the runway to the locker room, his arm held tight to his front. It hurt like hell, but the only thing he really felt was relief.

*

Once the trainers poked and prodded him enough to determine nothing was broken, they strapped his arm to his body and sent him on his way. They sent him on his way with a bunch of the good drugs. Drugs for pain and drugs to help him sleep. Bryan pocketed them, and once the team was back at the hotel for the night, he bought a bottle of bourbon from the bar and headed upstairs with a plan.

He bypassed his own room, knowing Sid would look for him there, and tried Murr’s door again. This time, he was in. He opened it and blinked in surprise—first that it was Bryan at his door, then at his arm, then at the bourbon in his good hand. 

“Shit. You all right, there?” he asked, eyebrows drawing down.

“No,” Bryan answered. “But you can help me.”

Matt opened his door wider and stepped back. “What do you need?”

Bryan lifted the bottle on his way into the room. “A drinking buddy. Sit down with me.” He set the bottle on the table and carefully moved Matt’s laptop to the bed before taking the pill bottles out of his pocket. He set those on the table too, on either side of the bourbon.

Matt sat across from him, as directed, and examined what Bryan had brought with skepticism. “What is this, Bry?” he asked in that way he had. Detached and cool and earnest all at once. Bryan looked at his narrow face and his concerned eyes that were a shade or two lighter than his own and wondered just how immune to Matt Murray he really was. The Chemistry Slut just didn’t know when to quit. 

“This…” He gestured with his good hand. “…is the end of my chem with Sid. Do you have cups?”

Matt hesitated, eyebrows drawn a little farther down his forehead, then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get some.”

“Also ice?”

“You bet. Just hang on.”

“Sure. Thanks for hosting.” In the silence of the room after Matt left, Bryan listened to the sound of his breath echoing in his ears. He was pretty stoned already. Pain and then pain pills did that to a guy. 

Sid was in his own room, waiting for Bryan to come. Assuming Bryan would listen to him and turn up like an obedient dog. And they’d have sex, and it’d be really good, and it would straighten their chem right out. No more kinks. The last two nights were just hiccups. And they’d do it because this was their job, and Bryan was very, very good at this job. 

Though, maybe, he was actually the worst at it. That was looking increasingly likely.

Matt came back with a bucket of ice and two plastic cups from the bathroom and set them on the table. “I’ll do the honors,” he said cracking open the bourbon.

“That’s super nice of you.” Bryan watched him pour. The cup was mostly ice, so it’d be watered down. That was okay. He had a feeling it wouldn’t take much this time.

“What are we drinking to?” Matt asked, pushing the plastic cup closer to Bryan.

Bryan lifted it and gave the bourbon a sniff. He’d bought the best stuff the bar had. The markup was unbelievable, and he was still barely above league minimum, but this was a special occasion. “To solitude.”

Their cups clicked together before Bryan took a long sip. It burned down his throat and heated his belly just like it was supposed to. Matt drank too, then set his cup down and took a deep breath. “Why’re you doin’ this?” he asked, ever the direct fellow. 

“Because _I_ …” Bryan shifted his fucked-up shoulder and winced. “…am no longer useful. This one feels like a four-to-sixer.”

“Shit.” Matt poked his ice. He held a cube between his first and second fingers and popped it in his mouth. “I take it you haven’t run this by Coach or Sid,” he said and crunched on the ice.

“Nope. How was I supposed to know blacking out would break our chemistry?”

“How _do_ you know that?”

Bryan took another swallow. “College. I was a messy bitch sophomore year.” He gave Matt a considering look. “This is your first, right? With Flower.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah.” He smiled quickly—the smile of someone who’d discovered a private world for two. That first one was always a fucking marvel.

“Why do you think the coaches wanted you guys to have it?”

“It was Flower’s idea, actually. After the Cup last year.” Matt kept his eyes on his drink. “At first I thought it was so we could work on my development and stuff. And we do. But I think Flower really wanted me to understand his situation. Our situation.”

Bryan was impressed. He imagined that situation to be nearly impossible. Flower had lost the starting gig ahead of an expansion draft that would likely take him from the only team he’d ever played for. And he’d made sure Matt knew the intimate details. He whistled softly. That would be some intense chemistry.

“Yeah.” Matt looked up, and his smile was humble. “It was an eye-opener. I’m thankful every day that he trusted me enough with this. He knew it would make us better, and he was right.”

 _Oh boy, are you in for it_ , Bryan thought. No matter how “open” Matt thought his eyes were, nothing was going to prepare him for Flower leaving. He made a promise to himself that he would be there for Matt when it all blew up this summer. “I’m glad it’s working out so well,” he said diplomatically.

“Yeah. I thought…” Matt shifted in his chair and pulled his knee up. “I thought it was going well with you and Sid. It seemed like it was. But this seems…” He gestured at the booze and pill bottles. “…not great.”

Bryan shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s my fault. I got in over my head.” He added a few fingers of bourbon to his cup and watched it melt some of the ice before taking a swallow. 

“Flower said—he said this has been really intense for Sid, too.” Matt said it tentatively, like he wasn’t sure he should, and Bryan’s head snapped up quick enough he got a little woozy. 

“Flower talked to you about it?”

Matt shrugged one shoulder up. “A little. He’s been worried about him—because this is his first real chem with anybody and it happened so far into his career.”

“So he’s really never had any before?” Bryan pressed, sensing an opportunity even through his fog. “That whole World Junior thing is bullshit?”

Matt regarded him steadily for a long moment, and Bryan reminded himself that Matt wasn’t just a one-way street of information from Flower. This would all go back to him. 

“The World Junior thing is bullshit,” Matt finally said. “I don’t know who the guy was—Flower wouldn’t say—but it was someone on the team Sid’s first year on the Pens. Apparently, it never set up right and dragged on that whole season, and there was some concern it would affect his ability to generate chemistry with guys in the future. That’s what Flower told me.”

“Shit.” Bryan could see why that stayed buried. 

“And then after his concussion, nobody thought he’d find anyone, but he kept trying. And he found you. Or you found him.”

Bryan’s heart gave a twinge of sympathy. It was a reflex. He couldn’t help it. He knew Sid had surrounded himself with team, so he’d never really be lonely. He had Geno, too. He had all of that so his chemistry with Bryan was a distant third in the hierarchy of his relationships. Sid was smart enough to have himself protected. It was a chess move that Bryan couldn’t remember the name of.

He had not been smart enough to do that over the years, to keep someone separate and safe. Someone just for him, to protect him. He was the idiot running around throwing his heart at whoever could catch it. 

“Man, why are you telling me this stuff?” he said miserably, eying the bottle of sleeping pills. Bryan wanted to go to bed and wake up without any of his feelings. Nothing but detached curiosity and distant sympathy for whoever took his place with Sid. There’d be others, now Sid knew how to do it properly. Bryan was sure of it. He just wanted to be numb for a while.

“Two reasons, I guess,” Matt said. “He’s your chem partner, so I think you deserve to know. And I don’t want you to do something you’re gonna regret for the rest of your career.”

“I have a feeling ‘the rest of my career’ is going to start real quick somewhere else,” Bryan replied, “so I might as well get that ball rolling.” He reached for the sleeping pills, but Matt got to them first. He snatched up both bottles with goalie-speed. Or maybe just sober-speed.

“Dude, give ‘em here. You can have some if you want but give them back.”

Matt shook his head, his expression so full of pity, Bryan wanted to fight him. Just climb right over the table and throw down. Gravity was stronger, though, so his butt stayed in the chair.

He stayed sitting until the hotel lock clicked and the door opened to Flower and—awesome—Geno out in the hall. He turned to Matt, confused and slow. “How did they know?”

Matt shrugged, his expression unchanging. “I told Flower. I had to, man.”

Flower crossed the room and held his hand out for the pills, clicking his tongue when Matt handed them over. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to call.”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to,” Matt said.

Bryan glanced between them. Right. Chem partners. 

“I didn’t know Flower would get Geno. Sorry,” Murr said to Bryan.

“Of course he did,” Geno grumbled, taking the pills from Flower. “He need those,” he said, pocketing them. “Rusty, let’s go. You can come to my room.”

“Rusty isn’t going anywhere,” Bryan said stubbornly. Certainly not to a room with Sid in it.

“He’s not there,” Geno said quietly, as though hearing him.

Bryan looked around the room, from one face to the next, and understood that whatever he’d attempted, the only thing he’d succeeded at was embarrassing himself again. He hadn’t wanted to break his chemistry with Sid alone in his hotel room, which meant this was probably all a pathetic cry for help.

He rose unsteadily from his chair and shuffled to Geno who put a hand on his good shoulder. “Come on,” he rumbled softly, and Bryan tipped against his side. They left Matt and Flower to gossip at will over everything they’d just witnessed and made their way down a fortunately empty hall to Geno’s room.

“Where is he?” Bryan asked.

“In his own room,” Geno said. “Upset, but I tell him he can’t come.”

“Fuck, he knew about this too? Matt must be really descriptive in his chem with Flower. I can’t get that specific.” Bryan sat at the end of Geno’s bed and Geno sat down beside him. He huffed a quiet laugh.

“No, Matt find Flower when he’s getting ice for your drinks and tell him then. Flower talk to me while he’s waiting for word from Matty.”

“Oh. That makes more sense.”

Geno put his hand on Bryan’s back. It was huge and warm with his fingers spread wide, and it felt so good, tears prickled in his eyes. They thickened in his throat, too, so he forced the words out before he couldn’t. 

“What do you want, G? Why did you bring me here?” He expected something big and loud and Geno, but all he got was a shrug.

“Make sure you’re okay, I guess.”

“Well, I’m not. Easy answer.”

Reaching into his pockets, Geno took out the two pill bottles. “You want these back?” He handed them over without any fuss, and Bryan accepted them.

He stared down at the labels in his hand and said, “I don’t think I can stand to keep this going with Sid knowing he doesn’t give a shit about me.”

“It’s not true,” Geno said, just like Bryan knew he would. “He gives a shit about you.”

“Yeah, for hockey. For the team. That’s all. And I know that’s what it’s for—that’s what I’m for. But I’m—” He forced a laugh to clear his throat and blinked back tears. “I’m having a little trouble with that this time around. More than I used to.”

Geno made a quiet sound but said nothing.

“I never figured out how to do it like you do. You keep your stuff with Horny professional, and you have Sid just for you. The only way I know is to just…love the shit out of my chem partner. Just love them. And that sucks for me every time I have to end it and remember that it was never about me. At the end of it, I have nothing.”

Geno shook his head. “I know it’s hard. It’s what I’m always say.” He turned to face Bryan more directly. “Impossible to separate chemistry and love. Life. You’re not doing it wrong. And I don't know if I'm doing it right.” He looked down at his hands and put one on Bryan’s knee, his long fingers curling around to the inside. “It’s why I try to leave. I’m so jealous of you and Sid, I can’t stand it. For so long, he only has me, and then there you are. And you do what I can’t.”

Anger flared hot and painful in Bryan’s chest, every bit of it his own. “Well, you won. He threw me under the bus the second he thought he’d lose you. And I can’t—I’m not gonna hang around for that. No matter what Sid or Coach or the front office wants.” He closed his fist around the pills. They were the only viable way out. Drink enough and take enough to black out for a night. Go out cold and knock his frequency offline for just long enough to lose the connection. Forget Sid like a fucking Wi-Fi signal on his phone. He’d done it accidentally once in college, then on purpose once. He’d do it with precision this time. 

Tossing the pain pills on the bed, he kept the sleeping pills in his good hand. That cap would be a bitch to get off with his arm in a sling.

“You can still do this if you want,” Geno said. “I’m not stop you. But I want you to know. I break up with Sid. The night you leave, I do it.”

Bryan squinted up at him. “The night I left?” Geno’s fondness for the present tense was confusing as hell sometimes. 

He nodded. “Yes, after you leave.”

“But. Sid said… He said he would always pick you. That’s what he did.” Bryan’s voice wobbled at the memory of that horrible confirmation of what he’d already known. It was always better to choose than to have brain chemistry do the deciding. 

“Yes, he say that.” Geno blew out a deep breath. “And for maybe twenty minutes, I feel better. I feel like I win.” He ran a hand through his hair so it stood up in coarse tufts. Bryan remembered digging his fingers into it on their chem nights. He remembered feeling Geno smile against his neck. 

“But we go to bed and I can’t sleep. I keep thinking. I only keep Sid because I push him into corner. I ruin something precious to him. Something important and good for him. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. The worst I ever feel.”

Bryan waited. 

“My whole body feels on fire, like I’m sick.” Geno had kept his gaze on Bryan’s knee, but now he looked up, his dark eyes wet. “So I get up again and say I’m sorry. I say I can’t do to him. It’s wrong.”

“What did he say?” Bryan asked, holding his breath.

Geno’s mouth twisted. “He say, so I’m leave him with nothing. And I say yes, and I leave.” Then he shrugged and got quiet.

Bryan rubbed the back of his neck where tension had been building for the last two days. "I’ve felt it. He’s miserable and scared. But it’s only because he doesn’t want our chemistry to break over this. I thought he'd fixed things with you. Fuck, I was so relieved when my arm got busted up tonight. There’s nothing to save it now.”

He imagined Sid in his room, examining the edges of their connection to see if it had started to degrade yet. Now that they wouldn’t be sleeping together or playing together, it wouldn’t take long. Bryan couldn’t decide if he should just put Sid out of his misery and break it tonight or let it drain slowly away so he would know exactly how it felt to be left behind. Taillights fading into the distance. Alone on a dark road. It’s where Bryan was headed.

“Is that what you really want?”

Bryan laughed without humor. “It’s never mattered what I wanted.”

“It matters now. Whatever you want right now, I will give to you,” Geno said, squeezing Bryan’s knee. Geno, who between him and Sid, didn't owe Bryan a goddamn thing.

Bryan huffed again and tipped lightly against his side. He blinked and sniffed a couple times, his decision nowhere near made. “Will you open this for me? I just want to fucking sleep.” He handed over the pill bottle and with some reluctance, Geno took it.

“How many you want?” he asked carefully, bracing himself.

“Just one,” Bryan answered. “We’re flying to Scottsdale tomorrow; I can’t be too hungover.”

Geno nodded, relieved. “Yes, okay. One.” He unscrewed the cap and shook one into his palm. “I’m get you some water.” He grabbed a bottle from the fridge and took off that cap too. Bryan tossed back the pill with a few swallows of water. Then, when Geno stood awkwardly by the bed, Bryan reached for his pantleg, snagging his fingers in the fine wool of his suit. 

“Also. Can we kiss for a while? Just kissing?”

Geno knelt down in front of him so he looked Bryan in the eye. He wouldn’t return for the Yotes game, but probably the Canucks at home next week. His knee was good to go just as Bryan’s arm got fucked. Their old chem tugged at his ribs, and Bryan didn’t want it back, exactly. He just wanted to remember it. 

Geno put his hand on Bryan’s face, and Bryan covered it with his own. “I miss kissing you,” he said quietly.

“You do?” Geno smiled.

“Yeah, don’t you? I always wanna make out with my old chem partners.” At Geno’s incredulous laugh, Bryan said, “I’m serious! You don’t miss that?”

Geno shrugged and shook his head, still smiling. “Horny is little bit too much. Kuni not really kiss. Nealsy was terrible. So…” He shrugged again. “You’re the best I ever have, I guess.”

Brian snorted. “Unbelievable.” He pulled Geno up and together they scooted backward on the bed until they both fit, lying facing each other. It was such a throwback to last year, his first playoffs and chem with Evgeni-fucking-Malkin, Bryan got a little choked up. Though to be fair today and the last two days had been the worst. These were at least good emotions. He inched closer until he could tuck his knee between Geno’s. Then Geno made a soft, comforting sound and pulled him close. Lying on his good arm, Bryan couldn’t hug him back, but he hid his face against Geno’s neck, blew out a deep breath, and finally relaxed. 

They kissed a little, Geno’s huge hand on Bryan’s face to guide him, but before long, exhaustion, bourbon, and an Ambien dragged him under.

*

After their flight, the trainers poked at him some more before practice in Scottsdale, and by the end, they decided he should get back to Pittsburgh as quickly as possible for the full battery of tests. They still didn’t think anything was broken, but the more pictures they had, the better they could assess his timeline. 

Which meant Bryan’s timeframe to figure this shit out with Sid was abruptly shortened to the few hours before his flight back. He couldn’t let this fester until Sunday afternoon when the team flew in. But neither did he have a plan. Walking in blind was a bad idea. Chemistry was involuntary. It moved bodies in ways they wouldn’t ordinarily choose to. Basically—he had no idea what he’d do when he saw Sid. 

“Will you stay with me?” he said to Geno on his way out of the exam room. “Would that be okay? I know you were gonna practice with the guys today.” They were headed toward the locker room, and Bryan could feel Sid in there. He could feel the moment Sid realized Bryan was coming to him with intentions. Purpose in his heart.

“Yes, I stay,” Geno said. 

“Cool. I don’t know what I’m gonna say. I’m hoping I will when I get there. Or he will. That’d be nice.”

“Yes,” Geno said with a smile. “He’s thinking for many days now. I hope he has some things to say.”

“To you, too?” Bryan shot him a quick look.

“Maybe,” Geno answered with a shrug.

They rounded the corner and entered the hubbub of the pre-practice dressing room, guys pulling on pads and lacing up skates. Sid sat at the center of it all, still in his under-armor. His feet were bare, his hands gripping the bench on either side of his knees as he watched Bryan and Geno come in.

The air was thick in the room, guys giving him sidelong looks and plenty of space. Sid wouldn’t have said anything, but he wouldn’t have needed to. The whole room was off.

Except for how Bryan felt like he’d slotted back into place as soon as Sid looked at him. What he’d been sure was a hangover these last few days evaporated from his temples and his eyes and the pit of his stomach, and he took what felt like the cleanest breath he’d taken all week. 

Which was obviously his chem talking since he took that breath in a locker room. 

Sid stood up as Bryan approached, and Bryan knew this would happen. It was a relief now. He crossed the room and didn’t stop when he probably should have. But he lifted his good arm right when Sid did, and so what if it was chemistry that made this feel so fucking good? Bryan had decided to come here. He’d decided to make himself vulnerable to this, and that was the choice that mattered.

Sid was super strong, but Bryan was no pipsqueak, so they held onto each other until they were both squeezing so hard it got difficult to breathe. Sid’s fingers curled tight in his shirt, and even with his bum arm strapped between them, Bryan swore he could feel Sid’s heart thudding against his ribs. He could’ve stayed there all afternoon, soaking him in, pulling him back inside where he belonged. 

They only let go enough so Bryan could press his brow to Sid’s. The room had cleared around them, leaving the three of them alone. “Fuck, there’s no time,” he said. “You have practice.”

Sid shook his head and let his grip on Bryan shift down to his waist. “I let Coach know we have a chem issue to fix. We can stay here or go somewhere quiet.”

Bryan braced to refuse. Fucking was not how he wanted to fix this—and he was too banged up to even contemplate it.

But Sid read him like a book. “Not for that.” He cast a quick look over Bryan’s shoulder, and Bryan looked to see Geno with his hands shoved in his track pants pockets, shoulders hunched, tense and waiting.

“This is quiet enough,” Bryan said. “I don’t have all that much to say, I guess.” Standing there with Sid, he knew exactly what it was, now.

Sid winced. He felt Bryan’s determination and thought this was the end. It pumped adrenalin in Bryan’s blood, and he welcomed it. “Please let me just—” Sid started, and Bryan shook his head. 

“No, hold on. I want you to know. I know what I am, and I know what I’m for. You don’t have to pretend this is something it isn’t.”

“Rusty, this is one of the most important things I’ve ever done.” He said it earnest and quiet and easy, the way he talked one-on-one with a rookie up from Wilkes or his oldest teammate. He said it looking Bryan right in the eye.

“Oh. Okay.” Bryan flushed, momentarily derailed. But he cleared his throat and pushed ahead, breaking his gaze away because he had to to keep going. “Anyway. I don’t have any illusions about my purpose on the team or with you. I just—” He glanced between Geno and Sid. “I just want it to feel… better, I guess. I want it to feel nicer than it has in the past. On the way here, over the last couple years, I’ve felt, uh. Used sometimes. And I’d like to not feel that, if possible. I want you and G to keep that out for a while. Away from me. I want just you using me, I guess.” 

He took a deep breath. He’d just said those things to Sidney-fucking-Crosby. The one guy he was certain didn’t need any more demands upon him. And here Bryan was. With terms. “So, what do you think?”

Sid nodded, considering his words carefully. Bryan could feel his mind racing. “I think… my whole career, I was sure there was something wrong with me,” he finally said. He glanced quickly around the empty dressing room, and Bryan felt a great swell of, _fuck it_ before Sid looked him in the eyes and said, “I had chem with Mario my rookie season—my first ever—but he was retiring. He wouldn’t go through with it. He said I was too young. I was living with him, and I wanted it so bad, that whole year I was a fucking mess. In hindsight I think he was right, but it was awful. I didn’t even know what it was supposed to feel like, especially when Geno came, and we tried so hard. After the concussion I wasn’t sure I wanted it, even if I could have it. I think I'd decided it was just going to be me and Geno, whether we had it or not. And then there you were. So I’m not sure I even deserve this chance. Let alone a second one.”

Bryan wasn’t sure he could have blinked if he wanted to. 

“You’ll probably have more chances than me,” he said finally, hedging. “Your start got fucked up, but now you know how to do this, it doesn’t have to be me.”

Sid wet his lips and shook his head. “I’m done trying with anybody else. It's fucking exhausting, and I want you. If you take me back, I’ll make sure… I’ll keep you here for as long as I can.” Then he said the perfect thing. 

“I pick you.”

Bryan exhaled a laugh, ashamed of his need and embarrassed that Sid understood it so clearly. But he would. He was Bryan's partner. He shot a look at Geno to see him smiling sadly and drew in a deep breath for courage. “Man, you’re already back. As long as you're picking me and G.”

Sid looked at Geno, too. “He told me right when you left, if you came back, he’d come back.”

Bryan blinked and shot him another look. “He didn’t tell me that.”

Geno shrugged, his smile turning sheepish. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“And I’m not either,” Sid rushed to add. “That’s not why I’m doing this.”

Bryan put his hand at the back of Sid’s neck, scratched his fingers gently through the shorthairs, and shivered as pleasure radiated down his spine. 

“I believe you,” Bryan said quietly.

Sid made a quiet sound, emotion swelling in him. He nodded and touched Bryan in return, settling his hand at the back of Bryan's neck. He was Sidney-fucking-Crosby, and he was asking for Bryan.

“Thank you,” he said aloud, though they didn’t need to. And as soon it was spoken, Bryan couldn't remember which of them had said it.

In his darker moments, he might think of this as the day he swindled the greatest two players in the game into job security, but Bryan didn’t like to hang out in these moments or string too many of them together. 

His life might be a record-scratch meme, but he at least had a hell of a story to go with it.

“Travel safe today, alright?” Sid told him. He said it with his mouth against Bryan’s, and it felt like love. “You and Geno should go together, and I’ll be home on Sunday.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“So. How do you date somebody you don’t have chemistry with? What’s that like? What even is dating?” Bryan knocked his heel against the bottom rung of his barstool and wished Geno would offer him a beer. Geno was cooking dinner, and he had a beer. 

Bryan had pain pills, instead, and Geno didn’t want him to mix them again. Fair, but unfortunate.

Geno took a sip and appeared to consider Bryan’s questions carefully. 

“Dating is… stay overnight for sleep. Cook, watch movies. Talk a lot. Or not talk but be together.”

So, all the stuff Bryan and Sid had done once their chem got going. Stuff Bryan suggested would help settle and keep it. Not great for Sid-and-Geno time, to be sure.

“And sex?”

Geno shrugged. “Not so much.”

“Huh.” Bryan swiveled the seat of the stool back and forth, switching one foot, then the other. “I always figured you and Sid went at it after I left.”

Geno snorted a sound of deep skepticism.

“Or at least on the nights I wasn’t staying over.”

“How much do you think we can do?” Geno asked, eyebrows raised.

Bryan grinned. “I think you can do anything.”

Shaking his head, Geno huffed a laugh. “Very flattering.” He went to the fridge and pulled out a package of mushrooms. “We did for a long time. Now…chemistry partner is enough for me. I’m too tired.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Sex?” Geno shook his head. “You know Horny, right?”

Bryan lifted his good hand in surrender. “Yeah, I hear you.” He and Horny played the same position, so they’d never been paired. Bryan was curious but not sorry. He had wheels and work ethic, but Horny had an extra gear nobody on the team could touch. 

“When I come back this week, I need to spend time. Several nights with him. I’m saving energy,” Geno said with a smirk.

Bryan could picture it—had seen it a couple times even, when G hadn’t managed to shut the chem room door before Horny was all over him. They were an odd pair, given how much Geno liked naps and quiet time, but maybe that’s what made it work. Horny had enough enthusiasm and abs for the both of them. And after bad games when emotions were high, they could take them out on each other. 

Geno had… Bryan wouldn’t call it a mean streak, because it was never directed at anyone in particular. But he could be intense when he was angry. Bryan sometimes missed getting pulled into that rush of emotion.

“What I meant was, do you miss it with Sid? You must, right? Since you used to do it a lot.”

Geno set his knife down on the cutting board. He looked at Bryan with a considering slant to his mouth.

“You can tell me to buzz off,” Bryan added. “It’s none of my business, except…”

“It is your business. If I’m stay with Sid, it is.”

“And you’re staying.” If he said it with enough confidence, he believed it. Confidence was at least half the game.

“Yes.” Geno put both hands on the counter and hunched his shoulders in a long shrug, or maybe a stretch. Then he let out a breath. “And I don’t know if I miss. When I’m jealous and angry and shitty, then yes. I think it’s not fair that you have chem with Sid and I can’t.” He looked at Bryan with a challenge in his eyes, and Bryan wanted to yield. It was an instinct around Sid-and-Geno, and Bryan was not the only guy on the team to feel it. He’d bet good money.

But Geno looked away first, before he could. “I know also, I have Sid for ten years. After Mario—” He shot Bryan another glance, like he was relieved they could talk about this now. “Sid and me, we get very close. No chemistry, but it’s almost like. It’s institution, like you say. Years and years, even before Sochi, and I don’t care if we fuck or not. He’s always trying with other guys, and I have with Nealsy or Kuni or Horny. I still always have him. I’m not worried until you come.”

Bryan nodded his understanding. “Well you guys should. If you’re ever feeling like it’s missing, you should. Have sex, I mean. I get it, a hundred percent.”

“You aren’t worried I might take your chemistry? Have with Sid instead? You say he knows how, after you.”

Bryan wasn’t worried about that until right now. And it must have been all over his face. “Do you think that’s gonna happen?”

Geno held his gaze for a long moment, then shook his head, shoulders slumping a little. “No. If not happen in ten years, it’s not happen. I see how much he loves his team and they love him. I know how hard he tries, and they try too. His brain is just very, very picky, I think. It’s lucky he finds you.”

Bryan was pretty much the opposite of picky. Bryan Easy could have been his nickname. Breasy. That was kinder than the Chemistry Slut, in retrospect. 

“I should have asked this before, I guess. Like, way before. But…do you hate my guts because of all this?”

Geno snorted. He reached for the egg carton on the counter and cracked a few into a bowl for this baked omelet thing he was making. “If I hate your guts, Rusty, I think you know.”

“Well, why don’t you?” Bryan either had balls of steel today, or his pain meds were gradually dissolving his filters. 

Geno squinted at him like he was also trying to figure out if Bryan was super brave or super high. Sid wasn’t coming home until tomorrow, and Geno oversaw medical issues until then. 

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “It’s maybe because you’re give to Sid something I have but he’s missing. I think that should be good enough reason. But if it’s bad day, and I’m jealous and angry and shitty, it’s not good enough.”

“Obviously.” Bryan nodded his understanding. Jealous, Angry, and Shitty could have been the movie of his Sophomore Year.

“Then, it’s maybe that… we were chem partners last year.” Geno shrugged. “So I know you. Very well. So I can’t hate.”

Bryan wanted the use of both hands right then so he could reach across the counter and hold Geno’s face and kiss him. “That’s really good to hear,” he said and cleared his throat to loosen it. 

Geno gave him a satisfied smile and went back to assembling their omelet. 

The fact that, as long as he and Sid had chem, he and Geno couldn’t have sex felt like a goddamn tragedy, because Bryan had loved that connection. That connection was the only kind he knew how to do. 

After another moment, though, he snapped his fingers. “Hey, maybe you and I are dating, then. Or, I mean, we could.”

Geno lifted a shoulder as he dumped the eggs and vegetables in a baking dish. “It’s possible. Maybe you know more about than you think.” He was blushing a little, and Bryan liked that look on him.

*

With a win against Vancouver, a goal and an assist, and first star of the game in his return, Geno took Horny to a chem room to celebrate after. On the way home, Bryan thought about the two of them and the sweaty, athletic sex they’d be having and got a boner in Sid’s car.

“Do you think he likes to fuck Horny or get fucked?” Bryan asked. He didn’t have the excuse of heavy-duty painkillers today. They were weaning him off those, and Bryan was just plain-old horny. “Because I could see it either way.”

In the driver’s seat, Sid adjusted himself and shot Bryan a quick, exasperated look. “He doesn’t tell me about his chem nights. But if I had to guess, I’d say they switch off. I know Horny likes it both ways.”

“Yeah?” Bryan wet his lips. “G liked me in his lap last year. Am I allowed to tell you that?”

Sid bit his lip and nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “You can tell me. I told you I wanted to know everything.”

Bryan still fucking loved this rush—his arousal and Sid’s. Feeding Sid’s with his own. 

Sid shot him a quick look. “I do know… he really liked partnering with you. He didn’t have to tell me. It was obvious.”

Bryan shut his eyes to soak that in. He wanted Sid to give him those details, but the truth was he already knew them. Geno had never kept his feelings out of their chemistry. After winning the Cup last year, he was drugged on Geno’s happiness for weeks, even after he’d gone back to Russia. Just the memory of G’s arms crushing him in a hug had sustained their chemistry when it should have drained away over the offseason. Only the news that G would partner with Horny in the new season could kill it.

Bryan didn’t begrudge Geno that partnership anymore. How could he? He still missed it, though because, how could he not?

They rode for a while in silence, but when they turned into his neighborhood Sid asked, “Did you ever fuck him?”

“Uh.” Bryan let out a jittery laugh in an uncharacteristic moment of modesty. “No. I have a general preference.”

“Do you ever?” Sid pulled into his driveway and parked in the garage before turning to him. His shoulders practically filled the car, and if Bryan didn’t have mobility limitations, he’d probably have tried to drag him across the center console. 

“Yeah, I have.” Tommy had liked it a lot, and Bryan would do just about anything for Tommy. He regarded Sid in the dim overhead light of the garage. “Would…you want me to?”

Sid nodded. He was as fiercely determined in his vulnerability as he was in everything. “What you did when I got back from LA, when you…pushed me. I want you to do that again.”

Bryan blinked. That wasn’t a thing he’d ever deliberately worked on. But if it got them back inside each other after more than a week of fighting and almost killing their chemistry— “Hell yeah, let’s go.”

*

Sid flat on his back with his legs around Bryan’s waist might look a certain kind of way, but Bryan did not feel in control of this situation even a little. With his arm strapped to his body, he didn’t have the stability to put his back into it, and even from the bed, Sid had him pinned. Those eyeballs did as much work as Sid’s thighs clamped around him.

Bryan tried to breathe and keep up his pace, but Sid pushed back at him. Last time, Bryan had shaped what Sid wanted, leaning in to speak persuasive words that weren’t real words. Now, Sid recognized Bryan’s approach and pushed back with _harderfasterfuck_. It stole Bryan’s breath and dragged at his muscles, pulling him deeper into a current that, in about twenty seconds, he wouldn’t be able to get free of.

It figured Sid would be better at this than him after observing for one lesson. 

He leaned forward to try to catch his breath, and Sid put both hands on his face, craning up to kiss him hard on the mouth, stealing his breath instead. 

Bryan made a short, desperate sound against Sid’s lips. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” he said. “Which is awesome but not what you want yet, I’m pretty sure.”

Sid fell back with an apology. “Yeah, sorry. Come on, push me. I want you to.” He tried to relax and withdraw a little, but he still looked to Bryan like Sidney Crosby waiting and watching for something. The right moment. 

Bryan grunted and spread his knees a little wider. He wedged farther under Sid’s hips and hooked his good arm behind Sid’s knee. “Why?” It bent him forward and put a little more weight in his quads and glutes, and they, unlike his top half, were better equipped for this. “Why do you want that?” he asked again when Sid didn’t answer. Then he gave Sid what he wanted and drove into him with all the leverage he didn’t have upright on his knees.

Sid’s eyes rolled back, and he moaned, and Bryan understood without Sid having to speak it—he wanted to let go, even if that meant Bryan had to pry his fingers open to release his grip. They were still racing toward the finish line, but he wanted Bryan in the driver’s seat. Bryan pressed his teeth to the inside of Sid’s thigh and held on for as long as he could. Sid’s orgasm was coming on like a line rush, and, well, Bryan was on his line. 

He pinched soft skin between his teeth, and Sid shouted. “Please…fuck, please.”

Bryan still had him, hanging on by a thread, so he let go.

*

After they’d performed a half-assed cleanup, Bryan sprawled next to Sid and fought off sleep. His instinct was to be on top of Sid for naps, but his arm was in the way.

“Sorry,” Sid murmured.

Bryan blanked on why Sid should be sorry about that and grunted, “What?”

“Maybe this wasn’t what you signed on for.” Sid sounded half asleep too.

Bryan cracked an eye open long enough to glance sidelong at him. Sid had his head pillowed on his arm and was looking at the ceiling. So he probably wasn’t talking about sleeping arrangements. “Pretty sure this is literally what I signed on for,” Bryan said. “I like it, and also, it’s in my contract.”

“Yeah, chemistry is. But not with me. Not long-term. When I asked you to come back, I promised I’d try to keep this for as long as I could. But I didn’t ask if that’s what you wanted.”

Bryan was silent for a few moments, searching for what lay beneath Sid’s worry. It wasn’t the old fear that his brain was too banged up to connect to another. And it wasn’t the long-buried belief that, after his rookie year, he was wrong and only wanted wrong things. Sid had already dragged those out for Bryan to see.

No, it was that he didn’t know what came after, anymore. 

Well, nobody did in this business. “I’ve liked having chem with lots of guys,” Bryan murmured. “If I didn’t, it wouldn’t have happened.” Sid started to speak, and Bryan cut him off. “But I was starting to feel a little…stretched, I guess. I wanted you and Geno to keep that feeling away.”

“You didn’t say long-term.” Sid finally turned to look at him.

“I sure as hell didn’t mean a fling.” He shifted his arm in the sling. “And I’m headed to IR for at least a few weeks, so…” With any other player, their chemistry would be over. No reason to hold out when a replacement could be found. 

Usually, Bryan was the replacement.

“I’m waiting on you,” Sid said quietly. “I don’t know if—if I’ve been fighting everyone off this whole time and not realizing it until you finally clicked. Or if you’re just that good, and you’re all I’m ever going to get. But I don’t want to risk it.”

Bryan felt the weight of that distinction like a fist against his breastbone. Like Sid was leaning into it.

“Either way…you get why I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

Bryan forced a deep breath. “G seems to think your brain is just super picky. Like a rare blood type. And I’m O+.” That was a solid analogy. Someone must have used it before. Sid had probably heard it already.

“Maybe,” Sid grumbled. His lips pressed into a line and he shook his head, and all Bryan could feel from him was helpless frustration. Maybe at the futility of examining a past that couldn’t be changed, or the uncertainty of their future. Either way, now was not the time to be helpless or frustrated. 

“Hey,” he said and leaned over to kiss Sid’s jaw. “Let’s use these powers for good, huh? For as long as it makes sense to. That’s what I want.”

Sid regarded him with sober concentration for a long moment until Bryan had flushed hot with the emotion welling up in them both.

“I wish G had told me,” Sid finally said. “About you. I wish I’d known sooner.”

Bryan grinned. “What, so you could steal me away?”

Sid shook his head. “Just to know.”

Bryan hesitated. For whatever reason, Geno kept his chem partners separate from his life with Sid. Bryan liked being Geno’s secret, just as much as he liked Sid discovering him now. And still… “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Sid’s eyebrows twitched downward. “I doubt that.”

Bryan shrugged. He tried to swallow the tightness in his throat and failed. “Feels like it right now.”

*

The sound of low voices and a shifting mattress pulled Bryan out of sleep. Geno was home and climbing into bed. Sid shifted closer to Bryan to make room, his whole right side pressed to Bryan’s left. Bryan wanted to spoon up against him, but he couldn’t grab on with his bum arm, so he turned his head on the pillow and inhaled the shower scent of Sid’s hair. 

“How’d it go with Horny tonight?” Sid murmured. “You guys all good?”

“Fine, yes,” Geno answered. As the blankets lifted and lowered, Bryan caught the scent of somebody-else in the puff of displaced air. Somebody not-Geno or Sid. Horny’s sweat and skin.

“No trouble after your time off?”

“No, Sid.”

Bryan rubbed his ankle against Sid’s and tried to suss out the need for these questions this late at night. Sid’s restlessness pushed at Bryan’s sleep-heavy mind, prodding him toward wakefulness. 

“You know you can talk to me about him. Horny. And Rusty. I wouldn’t mind.”

Geno made a noise of acknowledgment but didn’t volunteer anything. 

“I’d…like it. If you did.”

“Maybe later, okay. Let’s sleep now.”

Sid exhaled noisily and rolled onto his side toward Geno. “You know, I used to think you wouldn’t tell me about your chem partners because you didn’t want me to feel bad about it. Something you could do that I couldn’t. And maybe it was that a little, but I don’t think so anymore.”

“Sid…” 

Bryan didn’t need chem to hear the hint of a warning in Geno’s voice.

“You just don’t want me to know. You want it for yourself.” 

Geno huffed. 

“It’s like chemistry is…private for you, but it’s a team thing—”

“Yes. It is private,” Geno bit out, and Bryan came the rest of the way awake with a shot of adrenalin. “It’s mine. Just like Rusty is for you. Just because whole fucking team know, doesn’t mean I want to share.”

“But he was…you were partners for a _while_. Why won’t you talk to me about that?”

The character of Geno’s silence hung heavily in the night air. This was a stubborn one. 

“It’s because you loved him, isn’t it. And Patric, too. That’s what it is. You can tell me, G.”

“Why?” Geno finally asked, a heaviness in his voice. “Why talk about that? It’s already so hard.”

“Because I want you to trust me. I want to know that you think this will work. That you want it to work.”

Screw it. Bryan shifted carefully onto his side and scooted closer to Sid’s back, bumping his knees in tight. He wished he could reach Geno. He wished Geno was in the middle. He wished it were possible for all three of them to be in the middle at the same time. He shifted his arm in the sling and gripped Sid’s waist with his bad hand, starting when Geno’s closed over his. Warm and rough and huge. 

“This is how it works for me,” he said quietly. “It’s so hard to balance. This is how I do it. I come home to you, but chemistry is for me. I’m ask you to trust me, too.”

Bryan’s ribs ached with their old chem, the absence of it like a hollow, uncomfortable pocket of air, and the instinct to climb back into Geno’s lap had him clenching his fingers against Sid’s side. 

“I trust you,” Sid murmured. “I always have. But it’s not just you and me anymore.”

“Sid, it never was. There’s always chemistry. It’s always going to be hard.”

Bryan decided to speak up. He couldn’t rely on his chem to do the talking for him here. “You’re coming back to both of us, though. It’s safe to…you can talk about us. You and me, I mean. Unless you don’t want me here when you’re here.” Sid tensed between them.

And maybe Geno wanted that—for Sid and Bryan to keep their chem separate from Sid-and-Geno like Geno did with his partners, but he’d said himself the balance was nearly impossible to keep. Bryan might be an outlier, but he’d never even attempted that model.

“Maybe if you talk to us, it’ll be easier for you,” Bryan said. 

Finally, Geno’s fingers squeezed over his, and between them, Sid blew out a pent-up breath. Geno shifted closer to him, and a moment later, Bryan heard lips parting. The breath before a kiss.

“Maybe,” Geno said. And Bryan’s pulse thudded with all the love in his and Sid’s hearts together. “I’m think about it.” Even though he couldn’t see G’s face in the dark or feel him the way he used to, the optimism in his voice was obvious.

 

~And now for real, End.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all these sex-for-chemistry 'verses, I've wondered (aloud in my comments to unsuspecting authors) about the relationships outside of line partnerships, so in this chapter, I wanted to talk about it head-on. As much as I live for the smut, it seemed reasonable and likely that different partners would fulfill different roles in this universe. But that those roles would sometimes blur and be difficult to define.


End file.
